Unexpected
by Emara88
Summary: What would happen if Draco had feelings for Hermione Granger long before the Golden Trio are captured by snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor? When he sees her being tortured by Bellatrix, he risks everything to save her life. But things are never that simple. Draco POV.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

Hermione felt her heart pounding as she was dragged across the dark lawn, her feet scrabbling to find purchase on the damp grass. A large building loomed over them, and the soft glow of light shone through the windows and speckled the ground beneath them. Her eyes darted to the side to see Harry and Ron in similar positions. Both boys were being clasped under the arms, though, where she had the rough hand of a snatcher clenched tightly in her hair. Her roots were screaming in protest at the treatment, and her curly hair was becoming more and more tangled around the man's knuckles.

 _Shit, shit, shit…_ her mind shouted at her, thinking of all the ways she could get her wand back, as well as the few meagre wandless spells she knew.

But nothing came to her; her heart was beating frantically.

 _Damnit Ron! God damnit._

The stupid imbecile had said You-Know-Who's name in a fit of anger. He had been pathetically jealous of her and Harry's friendship, even though she had tried to make it quite clear to him that they were like brother and sister.

First he had insulted and deserted them, then he had returned and spent a month sulking and making everything harder and slower, and now he had revealed them to the death eaters.

They would have been better off without him, after all. Even Harry, who had always been so loyal to his hot-headed friend, would have difficulty forgiving him for this. That was if they made it out alive, which seemed unlikely

As the building above them materialised into focus, she felt a shudder pass through her.

So this was Malfoy Manor.

No wonder Draco Malfoy strutted around the school like her owned the world. Seeing the palace-like structure she was starting to believe that maybe he did. Forcefully pushing the image of the arrogant blond from her mind to deal with more pressing issues, Hermione thrashed in the arms of her captors in a last ditch attempt to escape.

With a groan of effort she managed to kick out a foot and catch her kidnapper in the gut. He grunted in pain and twisted his fist to pull her hair harder, causing her to shriek in pain.

She struggled harder, and even managed to break one arm free and whack him in the nose.

At this point, the guards were yelling at each other to keep her restrained. Hermione felt her gut swoop and thud as she yanked away with all her strength. But just as she thought that maybe she was slipping free, the man caught her wrist and swung her into the wall. Her head hit the stone with a sickening crack and she felt her vision swoop madly around her as she blinked the black spots from her vision.

Desperately trying to cling to consciousness, she sent out a last pulse of magic, wandlessly, and heard the screams of pain from her guards, before she felt her body get heavy.

Slumping forwards, her last thought was one of immense satisfaction that maybe she had hurt some of them before she lost the battle and everything went black.


	2. Captured

**Chapter One**

Draco was officially bored.

It turned out that being in the Dark Lord's ranks as a Death Eater, but being underage and distrusted caused you to be completely ignored.

Not that he was complaining about that part.

When he escaped Hogwarts a few months ago, ashamed of himself, but also incredibly relieved that Snape had stepped in, he hadn't known what to expect.

It turned out that Occlumency with his mother had paid off, and his loyalty was not questioned once Snape spun a story about his heroism in letting the Death Eaters into the castle.

And now he was sitting at home being baby-sat by the house-elves and twiddling his thumbs. He had gone out on one or two missions, but it was only minor things. It honestly seemed as if Voldemort had totally forgotten about his very existence. Thank Merlin. He had stood before the Dark Lord enough times to know he didn't enjoy it; in fact it down right terrified him. The guy was completely insane. He was violent and totally unpredictable. And all his talk of blood purity… the muggle-born register…

Draco sighed.

A muggleborn had been beating him in almost every aspect of school since his very first day. So it was a bit hard to swallow.

If they were nothing but filth, then what did that make him, who couldn't beat one in even potions? Even with Snape's obvious favouritism.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be a death eater… was it?

He just didn't like the pervasive feeling of self-disgust that filled him.

It was like his father and aunt expected him to enjoy murdering, torturing and raping. But those things simply didn't appeal to him – he was much more like his mother. And he thought that made him "normal", but the way Lucius stared at him with such crushing disappointment really riled him.

His own father was disappointed that he didn't get off on torturing people.

He'd tried.

He so desperately wanted his father's approval, he'd even volunteered to punish blood traitor criminals once just to see Lucius smile at him, or show him any sign of fatherly affection. But at the same time he didn't want to feel as if he had to turn into a sadist just to get a simple pat on the back from someone whose mind was twisted and warped by Dark magic beyond recognition. And his mother was a hollow shell of submission these days, so she could no longer offer her gentle support.

A few weeks ago, desperate for a place where he could escape from his parents, he had purchased a small cottage through a muggle realtor. It was quaint and full to the brim with rare books, even some muggle novels – all the guilty pleasures he had to hide from his parents. He had even managed to pretend to himself for a while that he hadn't been imagining _her_ when he bought and furnished it. Even though it was exactly the kind of place he had always pictured her in. Sitting in front of the fire, curled up with a tome and a cup of peppermint tea…

No. He just smothered it beneath his deep denial and acted like it was a little sanctuary all of his own.

Draco let his breath fall onto the cold surface of his bedroom window, fogging up the glass. A number of shadowy figures were striding up the path to the front entrance. They looked like snatchers, but that was strange, he thought.

Snatchers didn't usually come in groups to the manor. And it looked they were dragging people with them. So they had prisoners. But hadn't taken them to the ministry. Even stranger.

 _Three prisoners…_

Draco felt his heart skip a beat a bit, but he dismissed the thought as crazy. What were the chances?

Just as he was going to dismiss the thought completely and return to his musings, he heard a series of bangs and shrieks, even across the distance between here and the main entrance.

"Tilly!"

The house-elf appeared instantly with a pop and a shy curtsey. She had been in the family for years; in fact she had practically raised Draco. For a long time she had been controlled a lot by Dobby – Lucius's elf who had managed to escape his servitude – but in the years since she had been able to come into her own more and develop a unique personality.

"What is Master wanting?"

He beckoned her closer.

"What is happening down there, Tilly? Do you know?"

Tilly nodded up at him with her wide green eyes.

"Tilly felt the wards let in those filthy snatchies."

"And?" he prompted, knowing she wasn't finished.

"And others, but Tilly hasn't felt them before. Well… not really…" Draco could see her squirming a bit and her eyes went even wider. He frowned at her and leaned closer. She shivered a little bit, but he knew she wasn't scared of him as such. She just wanted to please him, as was her nature.

"What do you mean? What did you feel?" he questioned in a low, encouraging voice.

"Her magic smells familiar."

"Who? What smell?"

Tilly whimpered a little bit and twisted her dress in her long fingers.

"The book that Master Draco brought home from school that doesn't belong to him," she whined sadly, "it smelled of apples, and so does she."

Draco shot to his feet.

It was true, She was here. He felt his body go numb and he was frozen on his feet for a moment just trying to process the fact that Hermione Granger had been captured and brought here to his house.

 _Fuck._

When he saw that Tilly was starting to cry, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and bent down to her.

"Stop crying," he commanded, knowing that she needed a firm hand from him now, "Are you sure that it's the same person?" he asked quickly.

Tilly sniffed, trying to control herself.

"Yes, Sir. Are you angry at Tilly, Sir?"

Draco shook his head at her, distracted.

He was literally frozen with indecision.

A part of him knew he should stay here in his room and block out all sounds, or even apparate directly to his cottage so he wouldn't be called. It was definitely safer not to risk going down there and seeing her. He had no idea how he would react.

But the other part of him knew he couldn't stay away. He had to see her. He had to know what was happening, it was a morbid curiosity that had taken hold of him. He could still hear people yelling and he knew he had to act now.

"Tilly, listen to me carefully," he murmured, kneeling down at her level to look into her misty eyes, "I might need to call for you in the next hour, so keep an ear out."

"This girl is important to Master?"

Draco swallowed and felt a shiver pass through him.

"Yes, but I have a bad feeling not for much longer."

Tilly started to blubber then, and Draco gave her a last squeeze on the shoulder before dashing out the door and downstairs.

So it _was_ her. Tilly had good instincts. And Draco knew that Hermione's scent had been all over that book.

He had taken the book from her table in the library after she had rushed out in a hurry one day. Her place was marked by a red ribbon used to tie her curly hair back, and as he had lifted it to his nose, he had been overwhelmed by the fruity scent of her shampoo. With a blush and a shiver of nervousness, Draco had slipped the book into his bag after casting a stasis spell on it to preserve the smell of her lingering there.

He had spent a week staring at her in the back of the library as she devoured that stupid book, wishing that she would look up at him but also dreading it. But she never had; she'd been too engrossed.

Draco's footfalls tapped on the floor a little more quickly than he usually walked as he rushed towards the drawing room near the entrance hall. That was where his parents usually endured the company of any snatchers that stopped by.

When he arrived, he was surprised to see a couple of the same snatchers huddled on the floor nursing wounds that looked like severe burns.

"Ah, Draco – it's about time you showed up. We need help."

The disdain was clear in his father's voice, but he ignored it in favour of scanning the room for a sight of _her_.

Before he could see beyond the people standing around, his aunt stepped in front of him with an expression of sadistic glee.

"Drakie, come here!" she said in a shrill voice that set his teeth on edge, "We think this might be the wee potter and his blood traitor friend."

Draco numbly stepped forward, thanking Merlin for his mother's occlumency lessons that helped him keep his face completely expressionless.

"Take a close look at them, son," his father said urgently, his upper lip almost dripping with sweat as he bared down on Draco with wide eyes, "This could be our chance… _my_ chance, to get back into his good graces."

Draco felt the desire to roll his eyes at Lucius, but refrained. His father was nothing more than a sycophant these days. Ever since he'd been released from Azkaban he had become so obsessed with pleasing the Dark Lord that it had twisted him into an even more corrupt version of his former self. And considering what a total wanker he'd been before, that was saying something.

Draco let his aunt lead him towards two captives who were kneeling on the floor, their heads pulled back and throats exposed to knifepoint.

It was just two boys, one of whom had had his face disfigured, but was still unmistakeably Potter. And the other a raggedly dressed ginger. He didn't care about these two idiots… where was Granger?

"Well, Draco?" His father spat at him, desperate or answers.

Draco shrugged casually, keeping a cool face despite the sickness he was feeling in his gut.

"Well, it's hard to say…" he drawled, crossing his arms nonchalantly, "There are usually three of them."

Bellatrix cackled just as the snatchers around them growled with anger.

"The mudblood girl was a bit of a problem for these amateurs," she laughed, "fancy that, being beaten by muggle spawn. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

For a brief second, Draco felt a slither of sublime hope. Had she managed to escape after all?

"Is she still out cold?" His aunt continued, and the hope was crushed all too quickly as once again he felt himself shake. He clenched his fists to make it less obvious to the people in the room.

The voices around him swam in his ears as though he were underwater. All he could focus on was the weightless body being dragged in by a burly snatcher who hadn't been hurt.

It was her, alright. Her hair would give her away anytime, especially as it was wilder than usual. She had obviously been manhandled by it. It was the same chestnut brown locks he had once called "bushy", but in recent years he had noticed more and more how elegantly the tresses had begun to drop down into thick silky curls. Age had been very kind to Granger. And Draco had been unable to stop watching her as she matured into a stunning girl. Her buckteeth had obviously been shrunk back, but that wasn't the biggest difference to her appearance. It was her confidence that had drawn his gaze.

Sometime towards the end of their fifth year, Draco had started to notice that Granger was holding herself differently. She had always had perfect posture despite being hunched over books all the time. But what had once seemed rigid like there was a prissy stick up her ass, had slowly become self-assured and regal. She no longer bounced around in her seat desperate to prove that she knew all the answers. Granger had a quiet surety that he envied. She knew exactly what she believed in, and she believed it with all her heart and soul.

But now he felt sick as his eyes followed the path of a droplet of blood congeal around her skull, mangling her sweet curls, and tracing a lazy path down her forehead. She looked ghostly pale and her body was completely unmoving.

"Is she dead?" he asked, hoping no one else heard the shake in his voice.

"Nope… hard to kill this one," Bellatrix smirked, "We'll have to try harder, won't we?"

Draco shivered.

"Oy! Give it a rest – we took her wand an' everythin'. She just exploded or something. Fuckin bitch scorched us all."

Narcissa stepped forward then with a frown.

"She used wandless magic?" she asked faintly.

Bellatrix scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous, they're obviously delusional. Stupid bastards probably touched a cursed piece of jewellery or something. Novices."

Draco wasn't so sure. If anyone he knew could use wandless magic, it would be her. He had tried to dabble in it a little, but it was so draining he'd never done more than a simple levitation charm, and not for very long.

But Granger was potent, lethal and thorough. She would no doubt have launched into research about it the moment Snape mentioned it in DADA class.

Under the pretence of kicking her onto her back, Draco stepped forward to turn her over and see if she was still breathing properly. He had to do it a little too violently for his liking, but it was worth the feeling of relief at seeing her chest rising and falling softly.

"Get away from her, you filthy ferret!" The weasel shouted it from where he was being held, struggling uselessly against the much larger man holding onto him.

Draco frowned at the red head. Brainless git. He heard Potter grunt softly from behind his swollen features, and knew that scar head was just as infuriated with his moronic friend at this moment.

"Well I guess we know it's them," Lucius snorted.

At that, the ginger menace started struggling harder, and Potter joined in. With a pained grunt, the snatcher holding him copped a boot to the shin.

"Ow! That bloody hurt, it did!" he cried.

A scuffle broke out then, involving the snatchers hitting them across the head and trying to get a more secure grip on their captives. Bellatrix, however, wasn't paying attention, as she had leaned down to pick up a long, silver sword that had slipped from the grasp of one of the snatchers struggling in front of her. As they yelled at each other and at the two boys, with Lucius sneering at their incompetence, she was staring at it like it had some kind of queer disease.

"SHUT UP!" She yelled, and Draco gulped as he saw that glint enter her eyes that usually meant something horrible was about the happen.

"Take them down to the dungeon…" she said with a dangerously quiet tone.

"But-"

"You owe us-"

"NOW! DO IT NOW, you fools!"

Her scream reverberated around the high ceiling and shocked everyone into freezing. Even Draco who was used to her outbursts shivered a little and stood stiller.

Eventually the snatchers moved to drag out the boys, but when one of them limped forward to grab Granger by the hair again, Bellatrix whipped her bony hand out in front of her.

"No," she murmured, "leave the mudblood."

Draco felt his heart pounding again. He wasn't sure what to do other than stand uselessly to one side, and hope with all his might that some miracle would happen. He really didn't want to be forced to make a reckless decision.

When the snatchers had been bundled out and the boys were secure in the cellar below, Draco was left with only his parents, Bellatrix and Granger in the room, though the latter was still unconscious.

As Bellatrix paced the room throughout this, Draco had a chance to look a little closer at her face. It was strange. She looked almost peaceful, as if she were sleeping. If it weren't for the blood on her head and hands she might have been.

She had changed noticeably since he'd last seen her at the end of sixth year when he'd fled the castle with the Death Eaters.

She was markedly thinner. Not skeletal – she still had those tantalising curves that had drawn his gaze too many times to count – but there was a certain gauntness to her face and arms that wasn't there before.

Draco blinked a couple of times as he was reminded forcefully of all the evenings and late nights spent in the library pretending to read while he stared at her.

She hadn't really caught his eye until one day in the second half of their fifth year. She had been sitting with her head buried in a book and he hadn't even noticed her when he'd first entered the library. As usual he was being shadowed by Crabbe and Goyle, though he'd tried to discourage them more and more by then. He and Blaise Zabini were firm friends, and he had less and less time for the two goons who didn't even share half a brain between them.

"Draco, where are we?" Gregory had said belligerently in a voice far too loud for the quiet space. Draco had seen the cranky looks directed at him already.

"It's the library, you moron!"

The boys had looked around them in wonderment.

"Woah, there's so many books in here."

"When did it open?"

Draco looked at the two of them in disbelief, too horrified to even laugh.

"Look, juts piss off back down to the common room, alright? The Greengrass sisters have had a box of cakes sent from home."

The two boys immediately smiled matching goofy grins and stumbled off, leaving Draco shaking his head.

It was at that moment, when he had turned around with a grimace that he had found himself looking straight at the Gryffindor princess.

Her hair was piled up in a messy bun with a pencil sticking through it, and her clothes looked a bit ruffled as she peered around the books piled high in front of her.

When their eyes connected, she hadn't been able to contain her cheeky smile that told him she'd heard the exchange with Crabbe and Goyle. At first he had bristled, thinking she was making fun of him somehow. But then he'd seen clearly that there was no artifice in her face – she was a bloody Gryffindor after all, she wore her heart on her sleeve. She had just been genuinely amused by his frustration with the two buffoons and their ignorance. And she hadn't been able to stop the wry grin from teasing at her lips.

Draco had been completely caught off guard by this sudden feeling of camaraderie. He shouldn't have been. Granger and he were by far the two most intelligent students in their year; he supposed it was only right that they share some similar traits – such as their derision of idiotic friends.

Unable to control himself for the first time in many years – he was a Slytherin after all – he had smirked back and rolled his eyes before going and retrieving the book he was after.

Draco could clearly remember how he had cursed himself once she was out of sight. As soon as he had entered the row of shelves he had physically shaken himself and muttered profanity. Stupid Draco! He had taken a while to collect himself before he had returned to the seating area, curious as to how such a small interaction had affected him so much. And to his dismay he had found himself staring at her often for the rest of the evening.

That had been the start of it.

Draco shook his head, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched her now expressionless face dripping blood on the floor of his parents' drawing room.

 _What in Merlin's name am I going to do?_


	3. Tortured

**Author's Note: Hi everyone, thanks for starting to read this story. I enjoy the idea of writing Draco's point of view, as I think he could be a very complex character! I will try to post updates fairly regularly each week, but we will see how I go getting into the rhythm.**

 **I owe a special life debt to the great JKR for gifting us with these books. They are the defining novels of my childhood! Now onto the chapter...**

He could feel a heavy heat in his stomach that made him want to vomit or drown himself in icy cold water, anything to wash away the sense of foreboding as he stared at Hermione Granger, inert and bleeding on the floor of his parents' drawing room. Bellatrix prowled over to Granger's prone form at last and leaned down to grab her chin.

"Ennervate," she hissed, and with a gasp of air, Granger blinked awake with heavy eyes. She looked exhausted, as if she were going to simply drop off into unconsciousness again.

"Oh no you don't-" Bellatrix spat angrily, and she slapped her across the face to keep her awake. Hermione took in a ragged breath but didn't make any other sound as she tried to get a hazy grip on her surroundings. She must have used a lot of magic wandlessly to drain her like this.

"Wakey wakey mudblood," she said in her sing-song voice that set his teeth on edge.

Granger made a vague murmuring sound and moved her head to look around her. She spotted Lucius and Narcissa standing to one side. His mother was looking timid and nervous, and his father had an expression of barely contained glee. Then her eyes swept past the glittering sword on the ground beside Bellatrix and over to him.

Draco felt his throat go completely dry.

Seconds before her eyes had been unfocused and bleary, but now as she looked at him she appeared much more alert. She stared at him with an intensity that frightened him. He tried to swallow as he stared back at her, but found he couldn't. He realised that his hands were shaking too. For so long he had waited for some miracle to make her look at him with desire in her eyes, or at least understanding. He had bored holes in the back of her head in class trying to will her to turn around and give him that soft, affectionate smile she gave the two dunderheads she called friends.

And now she had her gaze fixed on him unblinkingly. He couldn't look away. Her brows creased in a small, puzzled frown, and that sweet line in the middle of her forehead appeared that she got when she was cross or scared. Her lips twitched but she didn't open her mouth or say anything. Yet somehow he just knew that she was pleading him with her eyes. She didn't look at him with hatred or disgust, just a silent plea for mercy.

Draco's fists were clenched so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palms.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to tell me the absolute truth. If you don't I will know. And you will suffer… more." Bellatrix spoke in a soft chant that belied the threat of her words. It was creepy, and he noticed Granger shudder as she finally flinched and drew her eyes away from him to look at his aunt. After a long time she spoke in a hoarse voice.

"I don't…don't know…anything-" she began, but Bellatrix just laughed and kneeled back.

"How did you get into my vault?"

"I…I didn't," Granger was trembling, and he was sure that it was from the head wounds and exhaustion she was feeling as well as from fear.

"This sword-" Bellatrix gestured to the glittering, ruby-hilted sword next to them, "this sword was in my vault, and now you have it."

"Pl-please-"

"If you haven't been in my vault, then where did it come from?" Bellatrix was still talking softly, and Draco shuffled nervously from foot to foot, hoping that Granger would just answer her so she didn't get too hurt. For now at least. He didn't hold out any hope for her long-term safety, but maybe the Order would send some help or something if she managed to keep herself alive in the meantime. Surely someone would come and try to rescue Potter at least. Not that he gave a shit about Harry bloody Potter. But then _she_ might be saved as well.

"We found it, it was just in an old forest. Please, we didn't take anything."

"LIAR!" Bellatrix screamed suddenly, and Granger flinched away from her but didn't respond.

"Maybe the cruciatus will loosen your tongue, girl," she spat.

Before Draco could even think of a way to stop it, Bellatrix had risen to her feet and cast the curse with a vicious twist of her wand.

 _"CRUCIO!"_

The next thing Draco knew, Granger was screaming. It was a hoarse scream of agony that echoed hauntingly around the room as her entire body curled up and thrashed and the pain took control of her.

He shuddered, visibly cringing at her sounds of pain.

She was completely lost to it; her body was jerking uncontrollably. He had never been on the receiving end of his aunt's wand, but he knew from countless Death Eater events over the last couple of years that she could inflict pain like no other.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally raised her wand, cutting off the curse in the middle of a pained scream that quickly turned to a whimper. Draco let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. His lungs were stinging from lack of air and he knew that if he unclenched his fists there would be blood on his palms.

He took a deep, shaky breath.

If she could just hold on a bit longer, maybe someone would come.

 _Where is her precious Order of the Phoenix now?_

He could see in the determined set of her jaw that there was no way she would reveal any information. And even if by some complete reversal of her character she did chicken out, Bellatrix was not likely to spare her life in return.

His aunt had knelt down next to her, stroking her curly hair condescendingly as one would touch a pet.

"There, now. You wouldn't want another round, would you?"

"No…please no…" Hermione croaked, her eyes misty and unfocused.

"No?" she leaned closer with a harsh whisper, "Well then you had better tell me where you found the sword!"

Granger looked confused for a moment, her brows furrowed and her eyes gazing unseeingly at the ceiling. After a pause she shook her head. She didn't need to use words; she just tightened her lips as if bracing herself for the next round.

"Very well," Bellatrix cooed with glee, and raised her wand once more.

This time Draco had to blink and turn away slightly so that he wouldn't have to watch.

It was a complete turnabout from what had become his 'normal' behaviour at school. He was so used to watching Granger's every move this past year, and now he couldn't bring himself to lower his gaze to where she was writhing on the floor of his own house. Especially since her bottomless brown eyes were clenched shut in pain.

He was jarringly reminded of the times she had returned his stare when they were at school and he had become lost in those same eyes. He clung onto the thought to stop himself from looking down at her.

Every now and then they had shared looks. He treasured every memory. She was the smartest witch in school from the moment she entered the front doors in first year. So it came as no surprise that she had been able to tell when someone was watching her. And he had been watching her intently for months.

Every now and then her eyes would flicker away from those books she glued herself to, and he wouldn't be able to look away quick enough. She'd catch him staring and frown a little, pursing her delicate heart shaped lips as she became curious about his attention. Maybe she thought he was plotting something. It wasn't that far-fetched. He had been vocal in his early years about her filthy blood status. And even if he had faded into the background a lot in fifth and sixth year, he was pretty sure she knew that he was the reason Katie Bell was cursed.

But once or twice in the hundreds of times he had sat studying vanishing charms in the library – when he had chosen the same desk that allowed him to see her perfectly – she had not frowned at him. Once in a blue moon she would simply cock her head to one side and look back at him as if trying to work out a puzzle.

He remembered holding her gaze and smirking at her, waiting for her to shake her head and return to her books. Every time it happened it had taken his breath away. He had no idea how a simple look shared across a library between two enemies could be hotter than any of the beautiful slytherin girls who threw themselves at him through the years.

But here and now her eyes just made him feel the icy cold grip of fear.

He wasn't sure he could watch much longer without losing the last vestiges of his sanity. Thinking about Hermione Granger had been the only saving grace for him these last few months. Every time he was forced to witness something grotesque or participate in a sick ceremony, he had to remind himself of the good in the world; of the good in her. If he didn't he would go mad. And now he had to force himself to stay where he was and not race from the room. He had to stay and see if she was going to be rescued.

It seemed the moronic duo were also struggling, as he heard the ginger in particular yelling at the top of his voice from the cellar. A strange, detached voice in his mind wondered curiously whether Granger and Weasley were an item now.

The thought was immediately suffocated by the suddenly loud scream torn from her on the floor even as Bellatrix got tired of waiting and cancelled the spell.

"You're a tough little bitch," she murmured, starting to sweat from the effort of holding the torture curse against someone who was naturally strong-willed. Interestingly, the ability of a muggle-born to resist this kind of curse through sheer bloody toughness did nothing to change pureblood attitudes. Shit, even if she leapt up right now and started performing wandless charms on the very fabric of time itself, her parents would still turn up their noses.

His aunt paused and started to chant an incantation as she drew something from the folds of her robes.

Draco shivered in anticipation. He was starting to feel more and more nauseous.

Granger was twitching a little bit on the ground, but otherwise becoming more alert once again. She rolled slightly onto her side and took a few deep breaths, taking advantage of Bellatrix's distraction. For a brief second her eyes looked up blearily and met Draco's. The look she sent him was one of absolute anguish.

His eyes were wide and dry as he stared back at her.

His heart thudded. There was bile rolling in his stomach that made him want to vomit. What would he do if his aunt or worse, Voldemort, decided she was of no further use? What if they killed her? Draco was sure that the last threads of his sanity would be broken by it. And yet he was frozen in an impossible situation.

If he made any move or showed any sympathy then his aunt might just be crazy enough to kill them both. The only one who would show mercy was his mother, but she was powerless here.

Then Granger opened her cracked lips, her gaze still fixed on him.

"Pl…please…" she moaned, and his spine tingled with icy cold dread.

She was begging him, but he still he remained motionless.

"It's alright, little pet" Bellatrix whispered in a sing-song voice, "Let's spill some of that dirty blood and take a closer look."

Granger's eyes were still boring holes through him as Bellatrix raised the cursed dagger she had drawn from her robes and started to press the tip into her skin.

"Please… _please…_ "

The blade pressed into her forearm, breaking the skin and coaxing the blood out to the surface. Then Bellatrix began to carve in earnest.

The desire to vomit became stronger as her blood dripped down her arm.

It was red. Bright, warm red.

Just like his. Just like any blood.

But as it dripped down her arm and onto the wooden floor, almost lethargically splattering one drop at a time, he couldn't imagine anything more monstrously ugly. He was aware on some level that his aunt was writing a word out of her flesh, but he couldn't focus on it at all. The tang of blood hung in the air, and her screams pounded in his ears. He was shaking in earnest now, lucky that no one was really watching him. The blade was cursed to burn itself through her muscle and flesh and into her very bones, and her throat was becoming hoarse with cries of pain. Eventually her body just froze and the screams tapered off into croaky moans as a way of dealing with the overwhelming torture.

Draco felt a strange prickling in his eyes, but he refused to let himself cry. Imagine being seen crying over a mudblood. He may as well just turn his wand on himself right now. He blinked and stared at the opposite wall as he fought the urge to scream himself raw and hurl his body on top of hers.

His aunt wasn't even trying to get information out of Granger anymore, he realised with a sick twist to his gut. She was just enjoying it.

 _Why isn't anyone coming to save them?_

His eyes flickered over to his father, but he instantly had to turn away when he saw the delirious joy lighting up Lucius's face.

So this was his family. Their blood ran in his veins. It was darker than the blood that had run down to soak the thick carpet in the middle of the hall. Darker than hers.

His morbid thought was cut off by the change in pitch of Hermione's yells – Bellatrix had begun cursing her again with the cruciatus as the knife clattered to the floor. Her whole body curled in on itself as his aunt focused the curse on her head. Granger's hands jerked up to grip her head at the temples, writhing on the floor.

Draco's eyes flickered down to her and then quickly away again. Her eyes were clenched shut and there was blood dripping out of her nose onto the rich wooden floors.

Draco felt himself sweating. Too much time had passed.

If no one was coming to rescue her, then she was getting to the point where Bellatrix would destroy her mind. As strong-willed as Granger was, there was little that could stand up to that crazy bitch's wand when her intent was malicious. He imagined for a moment a Granger who had lost her mind. She would turn into a brainless zombie or a gibbering wreck.

The brightest witch of their age.

Draco clenched his teeth. Death would be a kinder option. Hermione Granger should never have to live with insanity; she would never _want_ to live like that. One of the things that had drawn him to her at first was the depth of knowledge in her eyes; _real_ intelligence. For all that Snape insulted her for simply regurgitating textbooks, the reality was that she didn't just practice magic, she _understood_ it.

When Professor Vector paired them up in Arithmancy – being the only two students who weren't in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw – he had developed an obsession with her eyes. It had only taken five years of being beaten by her in every subject to realise that she really was as smart as people said. Actually, far smarter than they said, since her friends didn't really appreciate her. He was so used to girls batting their eyelashes at him and making their doe eyes wide and appealing. He had power, money and looks. And they really knew how to make themselves look attractive to him. They knew exactly what expression to pull to tease him.

But when Hermione sat quietly and stubbornly next to him, completing as many problems without his assistance as she could so they wouldn't have to interact at all, he finally saw how fake those other girls were.

When Hermione looked at him critically, piercingly, he felt like her stare went right through him. There was such a weight of intelligence there that he was overwhelmed. It was the weight of her personality – fiercely independent, confident and completely free from artifice.

So if she went mad, what then? Bellatrix was cackling now. She knew exactly what she was doing. It was only a matter of time.

And Draco was getting to the point where, if he didn't do something himself, then it might be too late.

A flash of movement caught Draco's eye as he stood there in indecision; a tiny dark green dress being twirled nervously by long bony fingers.

Tilly. He wide eyes were flickering nervously between the body of Granger shuddering on the floor, and him.

He saw her point her finger shakily towards him and felt her gentle magic wash over his hands. He unfurled his fingers and saw that the cuts he had made with his fingernails on his palm had disappeared.

He looked back at her more closely, his brain starting to kick back into gear out of the red mist that had clouded him since _she_ arrived.

Tilly was jerking her head a little to the side, gesturing towards Granger, and widening her eyes meaningfully.

He stared at her in surprise.

She wanted to help? He suddenly remembered her asking about Granger earlier and how important she was. He thought urgently about what he could do. If he gave the game away then he could make things worse.

 _Well how much worse could it get?_

But he'd be no use to her if he were caught or suspected of betrayal. He'd just end up joining her. He didn't think his father loved him enough to spare him.

He pursed his lips and stared back at Tilly, his mind working furiously. If he could just get Granger alone, then he could send her to his cottage. No one knew about it and it was heavily protected by enchantments. He could find a way to sneak her out without anyone realising he was involved. It was either that or somehow get a message to their friends in the Order. Surely they would launch an attack to save their precious Chosen one.

Before he could do anything there was a distinctive cracking sound that echoed up from the cellar. His parents and aunt looked up in surprise, giving Granger a momentary reprieve from the pain.

"What was that?" Lucius asked angrily, "Rowle!"

The bulking figure of Rowle could be heard clambering up the stone steps, and after a little while he limped into the room, grazes down the left hand side of his face.

"What have you done?" Bellatrix shrieked.

"It wasn't my fault…" he croaked nervously.

Lucius strode forward and grasped the man's throat, slamming him up against the wall.

"What happened, you snivelling coward? Spit it out."

Rowle shrunk under Lucius's fury, and it was strange to see such a grown man stammering like a schoolboy.

"There was an elf – he was dressed in woolly jumpers and hats. Layers of them. He grabbed the boys, all of them, blondie and the wand-maker too!"

Lucius's eyes narrowed, the vein in his temple throbbing as his grip on Rowle's throat tightened.

"What exactly are you saying, Rowle?"

"Well…they…they're gone!"

Bellatrix made a strange shrieking sound and raced from the room towards the cellar. Lucius spat at Rowle, throwing him to the ground and hurling a stunner at him before following after her.

Draco's eyes shot towards his mother, but she had spun around to gaze out of the window with glazed, unseeing eyes. There was no one else around but he and Granger, and she was barely conscious. She kept emitting small moans of pain. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her to reassure himself that she was ok, but knew it was still too risky.

"Tilly," he whispered, and she appeared beside him meekly, her horrified eyes still staring to her right at Granger's pathetic form, her wrinkly lower lip trembling.

"Yes master?"

He leaned down closer to her level.

"Do you know what's happened?"

Tilly nodded, leaning in as well and speaking in a tremulous whisper.

"It was Dobby, he was here!"

" _Dobby?_ "

She nodded quickly.

"He popped into the cellar then popped out again with the others."

"Do you know where he took them?"

"No, Master!"

"Has he tried to return for _her_?" he gestured to Granger.

Tilly looked heartbroken.

"No," she said shaking her head mournfully.

Draco nodded. The house had some extremely powerful wards placed on it, but they were less restrictive on the cellar so that the elves could do their housework. While Dobby could clearly come and go freely from downstairs, he would have difficulty penetrating the upper levels since he was no longer marked as a Malfoy elf.

Bellatrix and Lucius had likewise just discovered that their prisoners were indeed free, if the screaming and cursing below was anything to go by. He could understand his father's panic. He had hoped to get back into the Dark Lord's good graces. And Bellatrix would have been dreaming of the bliss she would have put on her master's face for bringing him Potter. She would've gotten off on it for sure.

Draco couldn't care less what happened to Potter and Weasley. The idiots were most definitely responsible for them getting caught somehow, and they deserved everything that happened to them. And now it seemed that they had managed to escape while leaving Granger behind. They'd just left her to fend for herself, knowing she was being tortured. Why hadn't they broken out of the cellar with the help of Dobby and grabbed their supposed friend? He couldn't believe how incredibly selfish they were. They hadn't even tried. A small part of him acknowledged bitterly that he couldn't really talk, since he had just spent the last hour watching her being tortured by his own relatives.

 _But that was completely different,_ he reminded himself, _I had no choice!_

He felt the blood pounding in his ears. Well _now_ he could do something about it. He'd been left alone in the room with her – since his mother didn't really count in her current state – and he had Tilly's help.

"Ok, Tilly, I want you to do something for me. But I'm going to need you to be really careful," he murmured down close to her.

Tilly nodded eagerly, rocking on the balls of her feet.

"Anything, Master. Tilly will be _so_ careful."

"I want you to take Granger and apparate her to my cottage. But you mustn't be seen. I want them to think that it was Dobby. Once you get there, put your own undetectable wards around the cottage on top of mine. And start some basic healing spells until I get there. I don't know when I'll be able to get away. Can you do all that, Tilly?"

"Yes, Master Draco. Tilly will do as she's told right away."

"Ok, _go!_ "

With a shimmer of magic Tilly became invisible. Draco glanced up at his mother who was swaying near the window. She seemed lost in thought and her fingers were idly playing with the tassel of the curtain tie. For the first time ever he was pleased his mother had lost her marbles. She didn't notice anything going on behind her. Of course, she had her lucid moments, but she was basically a shadow of her former self. A wraith that haunted the halls of the manor.

Draco's heart pounded faster as he heard the thundering footsteps of his aunt and father returning upstairs. They were still yelling at each other.

He looked frantically towards Granger's form, and felt a thrill of relief when he saw Tilly make just one old long-fingered hand appear and grab onto her wrist. It was convincing. No one would be able to tell that it was Tilly; it could be any elf's hand.

As Lucius and Bellatrix burst back into the room, the hand's grip on Granger tightened and they both suddenly disapparated with a loud pop.

"NOOO!" Bellatrix shrieked in horror as she saw Granger vanish.

"What happened? Where did she go?" Lucius whirled around in a frenzy.

Draco stepped forward, eyes deliberately wide and confused, ready to play his part.

"It was a house elf – that hand! It must have disapparated with them all."

Lucius frowned. "That's impossible. The wards wouldn't allow it."

"Actually, Father," Draco paused for dramatic effect, not having to try very hard to look shaken and upset considering what he'd had to watch this evening, "I think…it was Dobby."

" _What?_ " Lucius whispered harshly, "Are you sure?"

Draco just nodded and Bellatrix whirled to face them.

"That little twerp who broke his servitude to help itty Potter?"

Lucius grimaced and nodded, "Yes – he was a rabid little cretin. We were glad to be rid of him."

"He must have still been able to access the manor. A loophole or something. The piece of filth practically hero-worships Potter."

As Lucius dropped his head into his hands, Bellatrix let out an almighty scream and blasted a hole in the stone wall.

Narcissa didn't even flinch at the damage done to her home. They all just stood there with silent intensity for some time before Lucius took a deep breath and spoke.

"What will we do? The Dark Lord-"

"Must never know!" Bellatrix yelled.

Lucius shook his head.

"He'll read it from our minds," Lucius reminded her.

Bellatrix cursed and blew another hole right next to the first one. Draco had never been that surprised that his aunt and father didn't know occlumency. They didn't have the subtlety or intelligence. Their magic was more violent and ham-fisted than his or his godfather's.

"He is in Europe right now," Lucius murmured.

Bellatrix nodded.

"We won't call him now. It can wait until he has returned."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He was sort of hoping, maybe foolishly, that he could be sheltered from the Dark Lord's wrath. But it was a vain hope to think that his father would protect him. His father was a selfish sadist.

With a great sigh and a last look at his mother who was still staring absentmindedly out the window, Draco began to stroll out of the room slowly. He was trying to appear calm and nonchalant. With a great feeling of relief, no one called him back or questioned why he was leaving. To protect his excuse for being absent for a while, he decided as he was leaving to call out,

"Screw this, I'm done. Call me if it's worth it next time. I didn't even get to see the mudblood die."

He almost choked on the words, but they helped him keep his cover as the petulant blood purist who had missed out on some fun. He even had the whining voice and slow, casual saunter of his own youth to base his performance on.

But by the time he made it upstairs to his room, he was running.


	4. Healed

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading and following. I love writing with house elves; I don't know why I just find them such interesting creatures in the books. That moment in Deathly Hallows when the house elves, led by Kreacher, run out to fight for Hogwarts always makes me cry. JKR, as always, owns all these beautiful creatures...**

Draco apparated to the cottage the moment he got back to his room. He recognised Tilly's wards up all over the area, but she had designed them to let him through. It was a small stone building with a single floor and an attic loft, buried into the woods around it and covered in honeysuckle and other wildflowers. It was picturesque and isolated and Draco had wanted it the moment he saw it. The cottages on either side were still a few hundred metres away giving it an air of privacy and loneliness. Inside he had gotten Tilly to decorate it in a rustic style with heavy wooden tables and deep blue curtains. It was completely unlike the Manor and to him it was home. When he was young, Draco had never thought he was the type to like a quaint domestic life, but that was before he had to endure various horrors at the hands of the Death Eaters. It had become increasingly tempting to just escape to his cottage and wait out the war in the hopes that the so-called "light" side would win. But his sense of duty to his family, not to mention his inheritance, still held a lot of sway over him. He might think that Voldemort was a psycho, but Lucius and Narcissa were still his parents, and he couldn't abandon them. He dreaded what his life would be like if Voldemort won. Torn between his duty and his sense of what is right (like not murdering innocent people). He shuddered at the thought of a wizarding ruled world by that snake. But that didn't mean Draco was ever going to stand side by side with that complete Wanker-who-just-wouldn't-die Potter. He had his pride. He would just prefer to slink away and see how the cards fell, so to speak. He was Slytherin, after all.

As Draco reached the end of the cobbled pathway, he threw the door open and entered the kitchen just as the sun was sending the first of its dappled rays through the yellow curtains, giving it an eerie glow.

""Tilly? He called out.

"In here Master Draco!" she called from the bedroom.

There were a few lights on, but otherwise the room was quite dim. He stepped forward hurriedly when he saw that Tilly had Granger lying on the bed.

She was out cold.

Draco stood next to the bed staring at her for a few timeless seconds. She looked like a sleeping corpse. Her skin was pale and she had blood drying under her nose and at her temples from where her head had been cracked against a wall. If it weren't for the steady rasping breaths she was taking, he would have feared the worst. He slowly reached out a hand, hating the way it shook. Gently, afraid to hurt her, and not really thinking it through, he stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Despite everything that had happened, her skin was still so soft. He felt his heart beat louder, and worried foolishly for a split second that the thumping would wake her. He wasn't ready yet to see the fear and disgust in her eyes when she saw him. She looked so peaceful sleeping.

"Master?" Tilly asked in a croaky voice.

Draco jumped and pulled his hand away from Granger as if he were burned. She didn't need him pawing all over her; she needed serious help. He didn't even know yet whether she had lost her mind or if she'd wake up sane.

"What will we do, Master?" Tilly urged him.

Draco took a deep breath and ran his eyes over her from top to bottom.

"Alright, I'm going to need blood replenishing potion, a calming and strengthening draught. Also some dreamless sleep. And bandages with healing paste." He listed these for Tilly rapidly as he began to roll up his shirtsleeves. She popped away again to fetch everything while he got his wand out and ran some basic diagnostic charms. She was in bad shape. Draco got to work quickly stemming any internal bleeding. Once he was sure there was no life-threatening bleeds, he ran some charms to help settle her nerves. The cruciatus curse was particularly effective at frying ones nerves, and Granger had been subjected to it for a long time. She would be feeling radiating pain everywhere in her body for a while.

When Tilly returned, he quickly moved onto the deep cut in her head. He washed the wound and applied some paste to seal it. Then he turned to the one on her forearm. When he finally saw the word that Bellatrix had carved into her, Draco distantly felt himself retch, as if looking down on himself from a great height. His head spun. He turned away for a moment as he forced himself to swallow the bile that rose into his throat.

 _Mudblood..._

Suddenly years of memories swam in front of his eyes; calling her a filthy mudblood in front of two quidditch teams. Telling half the school he hoped she'd die because of her filthy blood. Teasing her for her blood status while waiting for a hippogriff to be executed. And now his own family had engraved the hateful word into her arm. He was disgusted with himself. What had he thought was going to happen? That he'd save her life and she'd wake up and be so grateful that she'd just forgive him for everything? That was never going to happen.

Draco shuddered and forced himself to continue. It would serve no purpose wallowing in his self-hatred now. She needed his help. Maybe if he stayed calm and did his best to heal it he could make sure the word wasn't too deep or harsh to look at.

"Ok Tilly, I'm going to cast some spells on her arm. Could you follow after me with the scar paste." But Tilly wasn't really looking, so he waved his hand in front of her. "Tilly? Did you hear me?"

Tilly nodded but still stared away.

"Tilly doesn't want to look at it, Master. It is not nice."

Draco sighed and nodded.

"I know, Tilly."

Tilly turned her eyes to him then, almost accusingly, and Draco knew she was thinking about his own behaviour in his youth.

"I have a lot to make amends for," he muttered, almost to himself, before speaking more loudly to the house elf again, "I need your help here, Tilly. I need you to rub this paste in. Please. Can you do that?"

Tilly met his eyes, a new spark of determination in her wide orbs. She had always been a nervous wreck in his youth, but it seemed that the two of them had grown together. She was more gutsy now.

"Master used to _order_ Tilly. Now he _asks_. Tilly is honoured to help."

Draco smiled gently at her in reply, before raising his wand to start work on Granger's arm.

The two of them worked tirelessly on her for a couple of hours. They managed to bring a bit of colour back into Granger's face. And her cuts were closed nicely, but they'd have to wait and see what the scarring was like on her bandaged arm later. She had been twitching intermittently throughout their treatment as a result of the nerve damage, but even that had calmed down. Draco finally let himself fall back into a chair next to the bed, and let his tired muscles relax for just one second. He was physically, mentally and magically exhausted.

"When will she wake up, Master Draco?"

Draco sighed and looked down at Granger's peaceful features.

"I'm not sure. Not for a few hours at least. You should get some sleep, Tilly. Why don't you go back to the manor and I'll call you when I need you?"

Tilly nodded.

"If Master wishes."

"I do."

Tilly was about to click her fingers and leave when she looked at him sternly.

"You need to rest too, Master."

Draco snorted and rose to his feet with a groan as some of his joints popped back into place.

"Alright, you old nag. I'll take a nap on the couch so I'm nearby if she wakes."

Tilly looked satisfied and was gone with another loud pop. Draco shook his head to clear the dizziness he felt from the drain on his magic. Now that he was alone, he leaned forwards and looked at Granger more closely. He had become so detached and clinical these last couple of hours that he hadn't really absorbed the fact that she was lying on his bed and that he really had succeeded in rescuing her from an unthinkable situation. He reached out once again, with nothing to stop him this time, and wrapped his fingers around her hand. It was quite cold, but not as bad as it had been before. Draco stifled the childish flutter of excitement he felt at holding her hand. He knew he would never get the chance in real life, so it was nice to pretend just for a moment. He lifted the hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. It was definitely time to get some rest, and she seemed okay for now.

Draco moved stiffly out into the living room and grabbed the throw rug off the floor, draping it over himself as he collapsed down on the couch. He took a moment to rearrange the cushions to make himself comfortable, before closing his eyes. But it took a long time to drop off considering how tired he was.

Draco was consumed by thoughts of Granger. She was so close to him. They were sleeping only metres apart. His mind was working furiously and he could swear that despite being in a different room, he could smell her all over his cottage. He flipped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't remember the exact moment when everything had changed for him. It had happened so gradually that there wasn't some big epiphany. He wasn't even sure his ideas about blood purity had changed exactly. They'd just been shaken. He did remember, however, when he first realised that he was in love with Hermione Granger.

It had been towards the beginning of their sixth year. He had been staring at her for months before this, since sometime during their horrific fifth year. But he had managed to keep himself in deep denial for a surprisingly long time. He had convinced himself at first that he was only watching her because she disgusted him and he was trying to find ways to hurt her. Not exactly a healthy start, he admitted. But it wasn't even that simple. Sitting in the library staring at her, he had started to have vivid daydreams. Initially they would be about him proving that he was cleverer than her. That's what his father had always wanted, after all. In his dreams he'd take a book that she wanted so she couldn't finish her assignment. She'd confront him, yell at him. Basically just pay attention to him. It had really started to frustrate him that after the year of Umbridge's reign she had started to ignore him. He supposed she was just growing up and not getting involved in the petty spats he had with Potter and Weasel. And he started wanting her attention now no matter how he got it.

But then the dreams had started to change. He had imagined her furious temper – a Hogwarts legend – directed at him. He would fantasize about her cornering him in the library and delivering a resounding slap just like the one she'd given him in third year. She'd go to slap him again, but he'd grab her wrist to stop her. And for some reason he couldn't pinpoint, their confrontations in his fantasies had started to end more and more in passionate kissing up against the shelves of the library. He shivered at the memory of some of the more explicit thoughts he'd had.

But the turning point had been when Slughorn had asked them to design a new antidote to an original love potion. He had prepared a big vat of love potion at the front of the classroom for them to work from. Draco had taken one whiff of it and knew instantly that it was _her_ he could smell.

 _Apples, parchment, mint, honey…_

For the first time in years he had failed a potions lesson. Even if Snape had been teaching, even he couldn't have pretended that it was a passable potion. Draco had been so distracted from start to finish that it had slowly turned into a green goop that resembled one of Longbottom's monstrosities. He had been too busy trying to justify why a love potion would smell like Hermione Granger. He just desired her, he told himself. He had some kind of misguided crush brought on by teenage hormones.

But love potions didn't lie. Neither did the way his heart skipped a beat when she entered the library every evening. He could keep repeating to himself that he was just obsessed with her. That it would go away eventually. But his rational mind and his treacherous reactions to seeing her were not co-operating with each other. It didn't help that she kept beating him in _every_ bloody subject they took. How could he insult her inferiority or her blood or magic when she was clearly more powerful and intelligent than anyone in their year, him included. And he wanted to possess her. Every time another boy from their year even glanced at her with romantic interest he felt the hot pangs of jealousy rise up. They weren't good enough for her. No one was.

Draco had done a lot of soul searching that week after Slughorn's disastrous lesson. And he had finally come to the irrefutable conclusion that he was in love. And that he was insane. How the hell did the Slytherin bad boy fall for the Gryffindor princess? But he could no longer deny the feeling of warmth in his gut when she was near, or the anger that consumed him when she paid attention to other boys, even platonically. Or the increasingly vivid dreams he was having about her. When he was still at Hogwarts he had been daunted by just how hot his dreams could be over the simplest things, like the touch of fingers on a neck, the gentle sigh that would come from her lips.

It had been a while since he'd indulged these dreams. Living in the manor once again surrounded by death eaters, his nights had been significantly more restless and disturbed by other kinds of dreams.

Draco groaned and threw one arm up over his eyes. He needed to stop thinking about everything and just sleep. Tiring himself out completely wouldn't help anyone.

And who knows… with her in the next room, maybe he would have pleasant dreams again tonight.


	5. Awakened

**Author's Note: Here is the next chapter. Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoy Hermione waking up and their first proper interaction. But it might not be as smooth as we'd all like! Please review.**

 **Once again I bow down to JKR, who brought such a lovely sense of realism to her world of fantasy.**

Draco was pacing around the kitchen trying to settle his nerves with a very strong cup of espresso. He could feel the caffeine calm his headache, but it did nothing for his anxiety. He was sure that Granger would wake up soon; she'd been out for hours. How would she react to what he'd done? How would she react to even seeing him? He wasn't exactly her favourite person. Maybe he should have another coffee. Draco leaned back over the counter and flipped the switch on the espresso machine. It was a little black and silver box that he had charmed to work since he didn't have anywhere to stick the cord that the man at the store said you needed to give it power. It was funny how these muggles had found clever ways to do things, if a bit slower. The machine hummed to life. Draco wasn't sure how it worked, exactly, but after a lot of noise and steam, a stream of hot delicious coffee poured out into his cup.

He had been thinking about his own game plan for hours now since he woke. He couldn't pretend to guess how Granger would react to being here, and it would depend largely on how her healing progressed. She might thank him, or curse him, or yell at him, or hug him. Alright, that last one was a stretch, but at least he was trying to prepare himself. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to approach it with caution. The last time she saw him before last night she despised him. He might have grown up these last couple of years, but to her he might always be that bigoted little prick, even if it was hard to admit that. It would only confuse and scare her if he was suddenly so caring and attentive. A part of him just hoped that she was smart enough to have noticed the change in him this last year or so. Merlin knows she'd caught him staring at her often enough.

Draco tipped his head back and drained the rest of his coffee. But he slammed the cup down on the counter with a bang when he heard a groan coming from the bedroom. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and strode into the bedroom, pausing by the side of the bed.

She was twitching and stirring, emitting the occasional moan as her tired mind dragged her out of sleep. She was still so pale. Her eyes blearily opened, squinting against the faint sunlight as she started to look around lethargically. He just waited for her to gather her thoughts. She might need some time to adjust.

She croaked out a sound unintelligibly, looking towards him through narrow eyes. It was possible her vision was temporarily blurred or impaired from the cruciatus.

"You're safe," he said quietly, calmly.

Granger shifted on the bed and let out another groan of pain, louder this time. He could see her gritting her teeth. He sat down, propping himself on the edge of the bed beside her.

"Do you need any pain potions?" he asked quietly. He was itching to reach out and touch her, but managed to stop himself. He was sitting fairly close to her anyway. If she twitched a finger she'd probably graze his leg.

Granger screwed her eyes shut then blinked them open again. Her eyebrows creased as she frowned, looking at him with an expression of disbelief.

Her eyes widened a little when she recognised him. She shrunk back in the bed away from him.

Draco just managed to stop himself from wincing at the look of fear on her face. Recovering nicely, he just gave her a cocky quirk of the eyebrow instead.

"Morning, Granger," he replied dryly.

She shook her head, eyes wide now. She looked him up and down before letting her eyes scan over the bedroom for any clues as to her whereabouts. He watched patiently as she took it all in at first, but patience wasn't exactly his strong suit.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" he repeated, summoning a couple of potions just in case. When Hermione saw him raise his wand to do the summoning charm, she flinched and turned her head away, clenching her eyes.

Draco sighed.

"Granger," he said quietly, trying to sound calm and not scare her more, "You're not at the manor anymore. You're safe."

Granger's eyes flicked back to him in surprise at his tone. She had obviously never heard him speak like that. The thought was a sad one. When she didn't respond, but just continued to stare at him, he coughed nervously and continued,

"We're at a cottage. Uh…my cottage actually."

She continued to stare at him for an indefinable amount of time. It was starting to make him very uncomfortable. He had wanted so long for her to give him that kind of direct attention, but he would have preferred it without the look of terror in her eyes.

Draco pursed his lips and tapped his foot, turning his head away for a moment. He pulled the stopper from a vial of blood replenishing potion and turned back to her.

"Here," he said, leaning forward to bring the vial to Granger's lips.

As his hand got close to her face, she started to panic. Her arms flailed up and knocked the vial and his hand to one side. The vial smashed against the top of the bed frame, spilling the potion everywhere. She kept thrashing on the bed, recoiling away from him.

Draco lifted his hands in the air in a sign of peace, backing away slightly.

"Ok, that's ok," he said steadily, "I'm not going to touch you."

Granger managed to stop thrashing about, but her chest was still rising and falling in harsh pants. She had yet to speak, and that alone made Draco frown. Granger was not known for her ability to stay quiet. Her incessant yammering was infamous.

"I'm just going to perform another diagnostic charm." He told her, raising his wand again and moving it over her. Granger clenched her eyes shut as if expecting pain, but when it didn't come, she opened them to squint at him.

There was nothing in the diagnostic image to indicate that something was wrong with her throat or her vocal chords. He figured she was just still in a state of shock.

"Can you speak, Granger?"

She looked confused for a moment but just huddled up more over her corner of the bed.

"I guess not," he sighed and ran his fingers over his scalp, messing up his hair, "Alright, that's ok. Maybe a muscle strengthening potion would help."

He reached over and picked up another vial from the bedside table, then paused.

"If I hand this potion to you, will you take it? It's not poison."

She just blinked at him. Taking that for a passive agreement, he leaned towards her with the potion. She stared at his hand for a long time, before she finally reached out her own shaky fingers. Draco made sure he offered her one end so that she could take it without touching him, as much as he would have liked that.

"Drink up," he said with an encouraging smile. Granger continued to look perplexed, but opened the stopper and took a deep whiff of the potion. She was a clever girl. She'd be able to smell that it was a real muscle strength solution. Eventually she grimaced in acceptance and tipped the vial back to drain the potion. He smiled to himself. That was a start.

When she finished he saw her clutching onto the empty vial with white knuckles. He leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands dangling in between his legs and swallowed, eyes lowered.

"Look, Granger. I'm not planning on hurting you. So you can stop looking at me like I'm about to curse you."

He took a couple of breaths before raising his gaze to her again. She studied him for a while. Her hair was messy from the ordeal of the night before and a few wild curls were draped over her forehead. She tilted her head to the side and brought her knees up under her chin. But slowly, as they watched each other, the terror faded from her eyes. She was still scared, her hands shook and she was deathly pale, but she wasn't panicking anymore. Draco tried to give her another encouraging smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.

Granger opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, as if trying to find the words to say. She even started talking at one point but just managed a croak.

"It's ok, take your time," he said. He had to pat himself on the back a little. This was about as patient as he was ever going to get. And even then he was running on his last nerve. But he'd done well so far. And from the determined look on her face, she was recovering her Gryffindor courage.

Finally she managed to say something in a hoarse whisper. He had to lean a little closer to hear it.

"H...arr…nd…Ron."

Draco cringed when he realised she was saying the names of her two friends. Of course that would be the first thing she'd ask. She was fiercely loyal to the two morons. Which he supposed was a good thing. If she hadn't been so loyal, then the Boy Who Lived would've fried sometime during first or second year.

He really hadn't wanted to bring them up so soon. The bastards had just left her behind. They'd turned their tails and ran, something he was sure Granger herself would never do. He wasn't sure how she'd feel about that. It might make her upset.

She obviously misinterpreted his expression of disgust, because she shook her head with a croak of horror.

"N…not…dead? Please no-"

"They're fine," he interrupted quickly, "They…well…they escaped."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she looked at him pleadingly. He realised she was waiting for more information.

"My father's crazy old house elf, Dobby, saved them. I don't know where they went or who they're with now. But they definitely got out. Lucius and Bellatrix were furious."

He waited a second for the self-pity to overwhelm her, but she just looked relieved.

"Thank Merlin…" she whispered.

He considered her pensively for a while. She began stretching her arms and legs out a bit and testing herself tentatively for injury. She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was having difficulty moving the arm that Bellatrix had carved into. Eventually she looked up and spoke again, her voice still very hoarse from all the screaming.

"How did I…" she trailed off, but didn't have to finish. He knew what she was asking.

"Lucius and Bellatrix left the room to see what was going on with your friends. While they were gone, my personal elf got you out and brought you here. But they think that was Dobby too."

Granger nodded slowly, absorbing this information. She unconsciously reached down and ran her fingers over the bandaged scar on her arm, her eyelids drooping as her arm cramped up and shivered in response.

Draco blanched.

"You should get some more sleep. You need rest to recover, you're still very weak."

" _Why_?" she stammered pitifully as her head drooped back towards the pillow.

"Granger, you were tortured. Obviously you need to rest."

"No," she spat the word tiredly and Draco felt his gut swoop, waiting for her to continue after she caught her breath, "why did you save me?"

Draco's heart began to pound faster. His palms were sweating as she looked at him with something that seemed like suspicion or accusation in her eyes.

 _At least she's looking at me,_ he thought. Now wasn't the time. She was exhausted and in incredible pain. There would be time to talk later, when she was more lucid.

"Get some sleep," he repeated, and she frowned dazedly at him. She clearly didn't like that he'd avoided the question, but her eyes were drooping more and more as her body relaxed against the mattress.

Not wanting her to push the issue when he wasn't exactly ready to cope with it himself, he stood and made a quick exit from the room. Cursing himself for a coward, he returned to the kitchen as fast as he could.

There was a pair of green eyes peering up at him from around the corner of the bench.

"Are you spying on me, Tilly?"

"No, master," she squeaked, sidling around the corner and shifting from foot to foot.

"Don't worry, I actually got some sleep too," Draco said with a knowing smile. Tilly brightened up, then. She had clearly been worried about him.

"What's happening at the manor?" he asked, leaning against the cupboards and running his hand tiredly down his numb face.

"Tilly was one of the lucky elves. Master Malfoy scolded the elves badly."

Draco groaned.

"He yelled at them, did he? Idiot."

"Gretel is dead, Sir."

Draco frowned and looked down at Tilly as he felt the nausea return to his stomach. Of course Tilly was being euphemistic when she said he had "scolded" them. He should have known better. Gretel was an older elf who had served his mother for years.

"Damnit," he muttered, slamming his fist down onto the counter, "fucking sadist."

He couldn't really act like he was surprised. His father had always been a corrupt person, using his money and power to influence others, but in recent years since the return of the Dark Lord he had completely lost his grip on reality. But to kill one of his own servants? Draco shivered. He looked down and saw that Tilly was looking at him with big wet eyes.

"I'm sorry, Tilly. I wish there was something I could do."

Tilly nodded and tugged comfortingly on the edge of his pants.

"Master Draco is enslaved just like Tilly."

Draco nodded glumly and slumped harder into the counter.

"That's about right. Did anyone question my absence?" he finally asked in a weary voice.

"No, Sir. The Missus said you needed some time by yourself and then no one asked again."

Draco was pleased his mother was still aware enough to stick up for him, even if it was only a minor victory.

"Have _you_ had any sleep?" he asked his elf with penetrating eyes.

She started to nod but then caught the gleam in his eye and quickly changed it to a shake.

"No, Sir. But Tilly must cook meal for Master and the girl…"

Draco snorted and spun around to face the kitchen.

"It's alright Tilly. You go to the attic and have a nap. I'll make some lunch for myself and Granger. It might not be fancy, but I've got to do something active or I'll go mad."

Tilly nodded and started to back out of the room uncertainly.

"The eggses is in the fridge, Master Draco. "

He smirked and headed towards the fridge straight away.

"Sweet dreams Tilly," he said pointedly, and the next moment she had disappeared, taking the hint.

Once she was gone, Draco sighed again and leant his head against the fridge door.

His father was a violent wreck.

Granger was awake.

And he was going to have to figure out how exactly he was supposed to answer her question.


	6. Explained

**Author's Note: Hermione has a lot of progress to make on the long road to recovery. As always, JKR is Head of the Office for Magical Literature Enforcement! Please review.**

Draco's eyes shot open and it took him a moment to get his bearings as he sat up straight. He was breathing heavily from the sudden wake-up and his hair was a mess, sticking out in all different directions. Once he was more aware of his surroundings, he realised he had been asleep on the couch, and had been woken up by noises coming from the bedroom.

Granger.

The pitiful moans and whimpers were getting increasingly louder, and every now and then she emitted a pained groan that echoed out into the living room. It was dark now, and she had been asleep for hours. Draco had made them both food earlier but hers had been sitting there for a while under a stasis charm. Another groan interrupted his drowsy thoughts, and he shuffled towards the bedroom, stopping in the doorway.

She was having a nightmare.

He wasn't surprised. She had endured horrific torture at Bellatrix's hands, and he imagined she would be plagued by those memories for years to come. Draco realised he hadn't had a chance to give her the dreamless sleep potion, so it was inevitable really. He crept closer to her and stood by the bed for a while, watching her twisting under the sheet. Her forehead was sweaty and pale and he could see her eyes roving under the lids.

It was strange how even in her worst moment she was still beautiful. The moonlight came into the room in swathes of delicate silver. It made her skin shine like an ethereal angel, especially with her chestnut brown hair spilling over the pillow like a curly halo.

When she released another howl of pain, he shook himself out of his trance and stepped up beside the bed.

"Granger," he murmured, hoping to wake her but knowing it probably wouldn't be that simple.

When she didn't respond, he leaned in and touched his hand to her shoulder.

"Granger," he said a little louder.

She jerked towards him, her fingers wrapping around his forearm and clinging onto him. It hurt, but he could grit his teeth and bear it. He was sure she was hurting more. Her eyes clenched shut and she shuddered as she called out again. Draco sat on the bed, prising his arm from her grasp and wrapping his own hands around her shoulders. He tried not to seem like he was restraining her – he didn't want her to panic – but he wanted to keep her from accidentally doing harm to herself.

Finally when he had her securely held, ignoring the pinpricks of desire he felt touching her and holding her so close, he said her name again.

"Gra…G…Hermione." The name rolled off his tongue like a prayer, and he inwardly berated himself for being such a sap.

" _Hermione,_ " he said more forcefully.

Her eyes finally shot open and she stared at him in horror for a moment as she drew herself out of the nightmare.

"It's alright, you're safe. No one is trying to hurt you."

He repeated the words in a soothing voice until she stopped thrashing and her body stilled. She was frozen, taking deep panting breaths as her eyes looked wildly around the room. Once he was sure she wouldn't hurt herself or lose control, he released her shoulders and sat back with a sigh of regret. Despite the circumstances it had been nice touching her. He watched her intently as she stared at the ceiling, remembering where she was and what had happened. He quietly summoned a glass of water and handed it to her. She silently accepted it, still not meeting his eye, and drained the glass quickly.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked eventually.

She raised her eyes to meet his stare and he immediately became lost in the sea of endless brown. She blinked a couple of times and took a deep breath.

"I…I'm hungry," she finally croaked, and Draco nodded quickly.

"Of course, you probably haven't eaten in days."

He summoned the plate of food from the kitchen and released the stasis charm. Placing the tray on the bed next to her, he tried to give her some semblance of privacy to eat by fishing out new vials of potions and lining them up on the bedside table.

When he looked back at her he saw that she was eating fast. Too fast.

She must have been starving. He had no idea what the golden trio had been doing before they wound up at the manor. If they were wandering the country as the Dark Lord suspected then they might not be eating as regularly as usual. That would certainly explain her weight loss.

"Slow down, Granger," he warned carefully, "You'll make yourself sick."

She lifted wide, horrified eyes to his and dropped her fork to her plate. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes before picking up the fork and trying again.

"Of course," she murmured with cheeks flushed, and he knew she was embarrassed that he had to remind her of how to care of herself. He had often watched her reading medical tomes in the library - preparing for her role in looking after Potter, he assumed. He waited until she had eaten enough and was starting to slow down before he took the tray away and banished it to the kitchen.

"Better?" he asked.

Hermione stared at him with a puzzled frown.

"Why are you being so nice?" she asked in a weak, hoarse voice.

Draco grimaced and leaned away from her, staring at a spot on the carpet. Despite how much his mind had been turning over how to answer her questions, he still wasn't sure exactly what to say.

"I'm a nice guy," he said, aiming for dismissive humour.

Hermione's frown deepened and she pursed her lips in distaste.

"But you're not. That's my point."

Draco actually laughed then.

 _Damn, she's good,_ he thought as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Malfoy," Hermione croaked, "why did you save me?"

His smile faded as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Because I could...because the opportunity presented itself" he finally said with a stiff formality.

She observed him for a while until she built up the courage to speak again.

"But you _hate_ me," she said in a small voice.

Draco released a deep breath, squirming a little on the edge of the bed.

"Look, Granger, I know what you're thinking, but I'm not the prat I was in our first few years…" he trailed off, trying furiously to think what to say next.

 _I'm in love with you…_

That would be emotional suicide. He actually had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from blurting it out.

"I know," she said, and it took a while for the words to register in his mind. She was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and what might be sympathy.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

Granger looked down at her hands where she was fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

"I know you're not a prat anymore. Anyone with half a brain can see that you've changed."

Draco smirked, strangely pleased that she had noticed. It meant she had watched him as well, even if not for the same reasons. He leaned forwards and let a few strands of blonde hair fall down across his eyes as he lowered his head. Granger continued,

"But Malfoy, You didn't just save me because you're _nice_ now. There's a big difference between not being a bully in school, and risking your _life_ to save a mudblood."

Draco flinched violently at the word and his gaze jolted up to stare at her in horror. Did she not realise that the word had been carved onto her? He didn't like the sound of the word coming from her lips. He knew that _he_ was the one who had called her that for so long, but it felt so wrong now for her to refer to herself that way.

"Don't say that," he rasped without thinking. Granger's frown deepened.

"Say what?" she asked curtly.

"That word," he spat. He saw her wince a bit at his harsh tone, but it soon gave way to a more intense expression of confusion.

"That's a bit hypocritical don't you think?" She didn't sound angry. In fact, Draco was surprised that she sounded so calm, and he was sure his surprise showed on his face. She seemed to be puzzled, not upset or mad.

"Yes, it is," he admitted quietly.

Hermione continued to look at him, her head cocked to one side as she pondered him. He met her gaze, his mouth dry as he took her in.

"Malfoy…" she murmured at last, taking a deep breath and looking nervous. He leaned forward, his heart skipping a beat as he waited for her to continue, "I…well…I need to use…do you…" she trailed off, biting her lip.

He loved it when she did that. She had a few different lip bites. Nervous, excited, focused, determined. This one was definitely anxious.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She squirmed a little on the bed before she met his eye again, taking another breath and speaking very quickly.

"I need to use the bathroom."

Draco blushed a little bit and looked at the floor, running his hand through his hair and messing it up even more than its sleepy state.

"Right…of course you do."

He stood and moved around the bed to the side closest to the bathroom.

"Do you think you can walk?" he stammered.

Granger pursed her lips and slowly swung her feet around to rest on the floor. She was clearly moving stiffly and lethargically, and wasn't supporting any weight on her left arm where the scar was. Without answering him, she gingerly began to put weight on her feet. She wiggled her toes and took some heavy breaths to give herself energy.

Draco watched her very carefully. Tilly had magically changed her into some more comfortable clothes that they could work around when they were healing her. She wore white cotton pants and a navy t-shirt that fit her snugly. It was far more suitable than the jeans and jumper she had been in when she first arrived. He wasn't sure where Tilly had put the old clothes; it was likely she had cleaned and ironed them already.

When Granger was finally done preparing herself, she swung herself up onto her feet and stood wobbling for a second. Draco grimaced and began to step closer to help, but she shot him a fiery glare.

"Don't," she said brusquely, and Draco let his hand drop, disappointed. He wasn't sure if she was just determined to do it by herself or she didn't want him touching her, but it still stung.

Once she had gained her balance, she tried to take a couple of tentative, shuffling steps. Her face was screwed up in pain, and she was holding her scarred forearm rigidly in front of her, huddled against her belly.

Granger managed to take two steps before her eyes widened in shock. He saw her knees quivering and then with a shout of surprise she began to topple forwards. Draco acted quickly. He stepped in close to her and wrapped his arms around her. She was so light, he had no problems taking all her weight on him.

"You're alright, I've got you," he murmured into her ear. She shivered in response and he felt her draw in panting breaths.

"I'm fine, Malfoy. Just put me back on my feet. I lost balance, that's all,"

Draco rolled his eyes. She could barely get the sentence out; her teeth were clenched so tightly in pain.

"Don't be stupid, you can't even stand."

Granger huffed and kept trying to push him away, but he held on tighter and forced her to look at him. Their faces were so close he could feel her little gasps of air fall on his cheek, and he let his eyes flicker, just briefly, down to her lips.

"Damnit, Granger, stop struggling," his words or his harsh tone must have achieved the desired effect, because she froze, looking at him with impotent rage.

"Your body has a lot of healing to do. So stop being so fucking stubborn, and just accept some help," he spat, feeling his frustration with her bubbling over. The last thing he wanted was for her to damage herself further.

Granger pursed her lips.

"And why should I trust you?" she spat, causing Draco to flinch again.

"You don't really have any other choice right now," he argued back.

She squirmed a bit under his piercing stare, and he knew from the fiery look in her eyes that she was thinking fast. He loved that about her. The way she had so much going on in her head that it completely transformed the expression on her face. Most girls had mastered the blank look that they thought was appealing by her age. But Granger was unapologetically sure of herself.

"Fine. Let's just get this over with," she finally said with a sulky look. He was surprised then when she voluntarily looped her arm around the back of his neck. She must have lost the debate with herself when her bladder demanded that she just put up with it. He felt a quiver of excitement go through him which he quickly supressed at the feel of her soft curves pressing against him. He accepted the weight of her as he leaned down and curled one arm under her knees.

"Ok, hold on," he murmured as he scooped her into his arms. She really was very light, too light. But her skin was warm to touch and where she wasn't wearing clothes she felt so unimaginably soft. A mountain of curls spilled around them as he carried her gently into the bathroom. Granger was looking at him with something akin to surprise. Maybe she hadn't expected him to be so tender in his treatment of her. He gingerly set her down next to the toilet.

"Wait outside for a bit, I'll call you when I'm ready," she said, her chin in the air, exuding a sense of dignity he thought would've been difficult to pull off in this position.

"Yes, princess," he said with an arrogant smirk. Just when Granger opened her mouth to retort, her eyes alight with fire, he left the room with a firm snap of the door behind him.

Merlin, she was a firecracker.

Even when she was exhausted and in pain, she still stood up to him and kept him on his toes. The pureblood girls he had been introduced to throughout his youth had been nothing like her. Maybe that was what he liked about her so much. Those girls were taught to be seen but not heard. Girls like Pansy always agreed with whatever he said, and rarely expressed their own opinions. But not all girls at Hogwarts were like that. And Granger was in a league of her own. She was passionate about everything. She always threw her whole self into any situation, and never held anything back. His lips cracked into a smile as he remembered the slap delivered back in third year. His jaw still sometimes twitched when he thought about it.

Lost in his thoughts, it took him a few moments to realise she was calling for him from the bathroom. He casually walked back in, giving her a smug smile when she looked outraged at his laid back attitude.

Making her angry was so much better than seeing her tired and haunted eyes.

"Alright, back to bed," he said slowly as she glared back at him. But she didn't argue as he hoisted her up again and returned her to the bed. When he got there he saw that Tilly must have popped in and left more water and potions, including the dreamless sleep.

"You should sleep some more, your body is still catching up and needs time to absorb all the potions in your system."

Granger nodded. She wriggled carefully under the blankets again, but kept herself propped up on some pillows as she sipped the water. Throughout all this, her eyes never left his.

"You didn't really answer my question," she said quietly, accusingly.

Draco pondered her for a while. He couldn't tell her the truth. She wasn't ready to hear it. She would most likely never be. He'd probably go to his grave with her never knowing how he felt and why he really saved her, but that would be for the best. Finally he spoke, choosing his words carefully.

"I didn't choose to be a death eater," he watched nervously as Granger considered him, her head cocked to one side as that crease appeared between her brows, "I know you think I'm a monster, and in some ways I am. But I don't believe in that shit. If Potter wins this bloody war then I can run away somewhere and live in peace and quiet. And the way I see it, Potter won't get very far without his precious know-it-all."

Granger was frowning at him in confusion. He swallowed the lump in his throat, hurting as it went down.

"So…you did all this to save your own skin in the end?"

Draco shrugged, trying to look casual.

"I'm a Slytherin aren't I?"

He saw her face relax a bit, and she seemed to nod to herself, as if reaching a conclusion about him in her mind.

"What is it Granger?"

"Nothing," she said wearily, her face dropping a little, "I was just expecting something more…I dunno…noble. But I guess that was foolish of me."

Draco let her words stab him right in his chest. He felt his skin crawl at her look of disappointment.

"Well you wouldn't be _you_ if you didn't at least try to believe the best in people," he muttered. As soon as the words left his mouth he cursed himself. He had been overcome by her soft, sad voice, and he hadn't been thinking. She was looking at him more intently now, and he realised he couldn't meet her eye. Her stare was piercing right through him. She wasn't stupid. She must know there was more to it than that. And judging by the thoughtful look on her face, she might already know he was putting on an act.

"Drink that," he cut in before she could say anything more, pointing to the vial on the nightstand. Granger reached over with a trembling hand to pick it up. The trip to the bathroom had exhausted her. She might seem strong, but the quiver of her fingers and the tension in her eyes gave it away. She sniffed the potion.

"Dreamless sleep?" she asked with a raised brown.

"It might help…" he started to say, but then shook himself quickly, "I'd prefer not to be woken again."

Granger almost smiled then, noticing his error.

"You're a selfish prick, Malfoy," she argued back, clearly playing along with his ruse. He didn't know whether to be grateful she wasn't pushing it, or terrified that she could read him so well.

"And you're a snooty bitch," he retorted, spinning around and heading towards the door. Before he could leave he heard her calling his name softly.

"Malfoy?"

"What?" he replied curtly. When he looked back over his shoulder he could see she had taken the potion, as she was slowly sinking back into the pillows. Her eyes were drooping even as she began speaking.

"Whatever your selfish reasons were for saving me, I…" she paused and took a deep breath, and Draco felt himself holding his breath too. Finally she continued in a quiet, slurred voice balancing on the edge of sleep. "Thank you."

Draco's gut dropped in a feeling as unpleasant as it was elating. He quickly left the room, shutting the door carefully behind him so as not to wake her when she was just dropping off.

He leant for a moment against the back of the door, shaking his head. Draco had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Granger had a way of completely obliterating his common sense and his self-control all at once. He probably only confused her more. He ran his fingers through his hair again. Maybe he needed more sleep too. If he wanted to help Granger recover and keep his sanity intact, he had to find a way to cope with all this. Confessing his undying love to her would only lead to him getting his heart broken. And pretending to be a bastard again and making her hate him would also lead to him getting his heart broken. So he needed to find an alternative somewhere in between those two ideas.

Shaking his head, he snorted softly to himself.

Who was he kidding?

No matter what he did, at some point Granger would leave him and go back to her stupid quest with her moron friends. All he could do was hold onto her for as long as he could so he could at least pretend, just for a little while.


	7. Punished

**Author's Note: Things are pretty awkward between these two. It's a tough road ahead for them, especially as Hermione comes to terms with her new situation. As always, JKR is the frothy layer on top of a butter-beer.**

Draco clutched his stomach with one bloody hand, stumbling to get back up to his bedroom. He knew he was dropping his blood on the hallway runner, but at this point he really didn't give a shit.

Voldemort had returned from Europe earlier in the evening, and after he had tortured the truth out of Bellatrix, Draco had been summoned along with everyone else involved in letting the Golden Trio escape. It had been nightmarish. The Dark Lord had been furious. He had thrown curses at everyone until they each admitted their responsibility in the escape. The only one who had been spared was Narcissa. She had barely taken any notice of Voldemort, and in an act that was probably more about apathy than mercy, he hadn't even looked at her. He probably thought a crazy person was beneath his attention.

Draco's punishment had been quite tame compared to some others. Bellatrix wouldn't be walking for a week, and Lucius… well, he would be surprised if his father did not leave with a chronic heart condition after some of the stresses his body was just placed under. Draco was lucky he had had no direct hand in any part of the capture or torture. And he had never been responsible for Dobby when he was a Malfoy elf. Once Voldemort had learned what happened, he had spent an hour doling out punishments. Draco had been subjected to a few spells, one that sliced into his belly, which he was now holding onto and sucking in deep breaths of air.

Draco had returned to his bedroom and grabbed a few potions with red, sticky fingers, throwing them quickly into a bag. He slung it lethargically over his shoulder before approaching the fireplace. In a burst of green flames, he disappeared, arriving at his cottage in a whirl, making him stumble out into the living room to get his bearings.

"Master Draco?" Tilly's head was peering around the edge of the bedroom door, looking at him with worry as she took in his bedraggled appearance and blood stained hands.

"How is Granger?" he asked in a tired, demanding tone as he stumbled towards the kitchen.

"She is awake, Sir. She is eating porridge."

"Good," he sighed with relief.

Before he could make it to the kitchen door, his leg cramped up from blood loss and he sunk into one of the armchairs.

"Tilly," he called wearily, and she was at his side in a split second, "I need you to pass me the two blue potions in my bag there"

"Master is in pain," the little elf said with a mewl of anxiety.

"It's not as bad as it looks, I promise," he lied to her, giving her a small smile. She clicked her fingers and the vials leapt promptly into her bony fingers. She presented them to him, and Draco quickly downed them with shaky fingers.

"Okay… I'm going to need to find a tricky spell I read about once to seal the wound. Knowing the Dark Lord, he probably cursed that hex so it will make my insides rot. I'm pretty sure there's something written in one of my books about it."

Tilly nodded quickly.

"Which book, Master? I will fetch it."

Draco could picture the front cover but the name was just beyond him. With a frustrated sigh he prepared himself to stand.

"Master?" Tilly asked with an edge of panic to her squeaky voice.

"Get me some bandages, Tilly, and bring them into the bathroom. I'll get the book."

With a muttered curse under his breath, Draco limped towards the bedroom. He could smell porridge and honey. And _her._ Her natural scent pervaded the room. As he stepped inside the doorway, he followed the strip of golden light to where it rested on her, bathing her skin. Granger was propped up on some pillows, the bowl sitting beside her on the bedside table. She had clearly managed to have a longer rest than before, as she was looking slightly more alert. Her curls were mussed from sleep and spilled wildly around her shoulder. And she was looking at him with wide, horrified eyes.

"Merlin, what happened to you?" she asked breathlessly.

Draco shook his head numbly at her and hobbled around to the bookshelves nearer the bed.

"You don't want to know, Granger," he replied coldly.

She was silent for a moment as his eyes browsed the spines of his books. Then she spoke, and her voice was much stronger; outraged and insistent.

"Wait…did _he_ do this to you?"

Draco knew exactly to whom she was referring. As if she wouldn't be able to guess, she was the infamous know-it-all of Hogwarts after all.

"Malfoy? Am I right?" she pushed when he didn't answer.

"Aren't you always?" he retorted, teeth grinding together to stop himself from yelling at her. It's not like she could leave him alone to save his pride, even if that's exactly what he wanted. She was literally trapped here in this room. So he would just have to put his dignity on a shelf and let her see his pain.

"Oh shit," she exclaimed very softly, almost inaudibly as she leaned around to get a better look and her eyes glimpsed more of the bloody wound beneath his trembling fingers.

Draco spun around to look at her. She was staring at him with a gleam in her eyes that he had a bad feeling was pity. She bit her lip in hesitation before she spoke again.

"Was it because Harry escaped?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Obviously," he spat back at her before he turned away to look at his books again. He started to get more and more frustrated when he couldn't see the one he was looking for. And it didn't help that his stomach was burning up. And that Granger was witnessing the entire humiliating ordeal.

"Damnit," he cursed, his bloodstained hands shaking.

"What are you looking for?" Granger asked after a while.

He almost ignored her, but then realised he had nothing to lose, and she was a bloody bookworm after all.

"It's a tome on healing spells, but has a chapter on sterilising curse wounds."

Granger's teeth sunk further into her bottom lip. He could see she was thinking hard, and he leaned his head back into the shelves to watch her from beneath hooded lids. Her frown deepened before she suddenly looked up at him in triumph.

"Biddle's Anthology of Broken Bones. It has a whole section on cleaning out injuries where curse magic can get into muscle or bone."

Draco let out a sigh of relief.

"Yes," he hissed, kicking himself when he heard the title. He had known his bookshelf held the answers, but his mind was fuzzy from the pain, "I knew I had it! Bloody swot," he added in her direction, but without much bite.

He leaned down to one of the lower shelves, gripping his stomach tighter before he limped with an unsteady gait into the bathroom, the book clenched in his other hand.

"Tilly, unroll the bandage and get it ready to wrap around my waist."

Draco gingerly removed his black shirt, wincing when it peeled away from the wound.

It took him a few minutes to find the right spell in the book, and by the time he started casting he was already exhausted. Tilly watched on with a quivering lip as he repeated the spell a few times until he was sure it would work. He got more and more drowsy throughout until he was slumped against the sink.

"Master Draco must hold himself up while Tilly bandages."

He managed to prop himself semi-upright while the elf gently but firmly wrapped the cloth around him, pinning it in place. The numbing agent on the bandage was helping to reduce the burning sensation, and he was finally able to draw in a deep shaky breath.

"Ok, Tilly…thank you. I need to get…to…the couch," he was sure at this point he wasn't very coherent.

He took the elf's hand and let her lead him out of the bathroom. He wished he could just get her to apparate him there, but with the magic he had just cast still working inside his body, it was too risky.

"You look like shit," Granger commented wryly when he re-entered the bedroom in order to get through to the living area.

Draco felt the room spinning as he looked up at her. He was drunk with exhaustion and felt himself stumble when he saw her.

 _She's so fucking beautiful…_ he thought, his voice slurring even inside his own bed.

"Liar," he drawled out loud, "You think I'm sexy."

He couldn't believe he just said that. His mind was seriously not working properly. He blearily saw Granger pull a face that might have been shock or disgust, he wasn't sure.

"You must be hallucinating," she quipped in return, and Draco snorted with laughter. He and Tilly only made it a few steps before he had to stop and sink down onto the end of the bed, his arms clutched around his belly. He closed his eyes and just breathed for a second. But all he could smell was apples…

"Tilly should do something to ease Master's pain," the elf squeaked with worry beside him.

He heard Granger gently stop her.

"No, you mustn't. He can't have any other magic interfering with the spell he cast. It could stop it working prematurely."

"Miss is very clever."

Draco felt himself sway from side to side, listening to them talk. He could practically feel Granger blushing at the compliment.

"Um…thanks…"

"Don't thank me, Miss. Tilly is just hearing Master say it."

"What?"

"Master says Miss is brightest witch of her age."

Draco groaned.

"That's enough, Tilly," he murmured indistinctly, knowing the elf could reveal far too much about his feelings, especially if Granger started asking questions.

"Help me get to the couch."

He felt Tilly rest her fingers against his forehead, feeling his temperature. He could feel himself burning up as sweat formed in his hairline.

"Master is not strong enough."

Draco grit his teeth and tried to make himself move. He hadn't realised he had slumped so far down onto the bed, though.

"Just give me a moment…" he murmured.

Hermione released an impatient breath.

"That's some great boss you have, Malfoy," she said, dripping with cruel sarcasm.

He blearily opened one eye and looked up at her. She was peering down at him, her curls dangling close to his face. Her words were harsh, but she actually looked quite worried about him. That was a silly hope, though. Because Granger would probably feel bad if she stepped on a cockroach.

"He's not all bad. Sometimes he just yells at us instead of going straight for the torture."

Hermione raised one perfect, elegant brow. He was sort of looking at her upside down from his angle on the bed. She looked beautiful, but she was spinning around above him like a mirage.

"Well you chose to be an evil bastard, remember? So you can't really complain."

"Actually I didn't," he retorted quickly, angry at her for scolding him like he was a child.

"What?"

He huffed out a breath.

"I didn't choose this."

She stared down at him, and that horrible look of pity returned, softening her features. Then after a while, she bit into her lower lip again and he moaned. He knew this lip bite. It was different to some of the others. He had seen it when she was helping the younger students with their homework. Or sometimes when she was reading those muggle novels she was so fond of. It was compassion.

When she didn't speak for a while, he found his gaze moving from her eyes to those chestnut curls dripping down from where they framed her face. They were dangling over him and swaying gently. When he released a breath, one of them rippled in the wind that was stirred above him.

Not really thinking straight, and blinking to keep his vision from swimming too much, he started to reach up a shaky hand. Almost as if in slow motion, he wrapped a single curl around one of his fingers, feeling its softness. Granger's eyes widened in surprise, but he barely registered it. He tugged the curl gently downwards then released it, watching it spring back into shape. Just as he was about to do it again, Granger leaned back out of his reach. He let his hand drop, his already burning face heating up more.

"Should…go…" he groaned.

"For goodness sake, Malfoy, you're completely drained. Just go to sleep here."

"No, I should…m…ove…" He slurred. Tilly was clucking her tongue, and it seemed she had an ally in Granger now.

"Sleep, Malfoy. Stop being stubborn."

"Bossy witch…"

Granger rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest with a look of disapproval. She clearly wasn't happy about sharing her bed, but she was a clever girl. She knew that he was her best chance of getting better and finding her way back to her friends. So it seemed she was willing to tolerate him, if a little grudgingly. In fact, she even leaned forwards and propped his head up long enough to slide a pillow under him. She wasn't particularly gentle, and her hands didn't linger at all, but he still appreciated the gesture.

"Sweet dreams, Malfoy," she drawled in a fair imitation of his usual sneering voice.

He smirked.

 _Little hellcat,_ he thought, but just as he was drifting off he let his guard slip for a split second as his head sunk deeper into the pillow.

"G'night… _Hermione_."

A small part of his mind vaguely registered her puzzled expression before he slipped off into a deep sleep.

It was much later when Draco finally managed to blink his eyes open in the darkness. His body felt very lethargic, arms and legs heavy and head pounding. He was also thirsty. With a groan of pain he lifted his head slightly to look around him. It was night-time. There was a slither of moonlight coming through the window, but it was still mostly pitch black.

It took him a while to wade through the fog in his brain. But when he did, he realised he was still lying on the bed in his cottage. And he was still completely drained from both his torture and the healing spells he used. And Granger was still there, now sleeping next to him. There was about half a metre between them. He was lying on top of the covers, but she was snuggled up beneath them, and her head was turned away to face the other wall.

But they were in bed together.

He knew in the back of his tired mind that it didn't mean anything. They were both recovering from being tortured, her even more so than him. And it's not like they were cuddled up together. But his stupid foggy brain kept whispering to him, daydreams that he would normally supress. He took a deep breath and rolled his head to the side so that his cheek was resting on one of her wild curls, which were draped haphazardly across the pillow.

 _Apples…cinnamon…_

With a smug grin on his face, he allowed himself to retreat back into sleep.

 **I would love to hear some reviews – I have fairly clear ideas about where I'm going with this story, but feedback is always useful in determining how I go about it.**


	8. Confronted

**Author's Note: Hermione might be putting the pieces together slowly, but there's still so much she needs to absorb before she understands Draco's motives. As always, JKR is the Master of the Elder Wand.**

Dawn had come and gone a long time ago when Draco finally woke up again. Even though the curtains were pulled mostly closed it was still fairly bright in the room. He blinked a few times and took stock of his injuries. His belly had healed nicely while he slept, and he was only getting the occasionally twinge there. His head was much clearer with no dizziness or pain. And he wasn't as drained. The only problem was a scorching dryness in his mouth. Peering to one side he saw a tall, glistening glass of water perched on the edge of the dresser. Sighing with relief he leaned over and grabbed it, draining it in a few gulps. It hit the dresser again with a clunk.

Draco groaned and went to sit up. It was only then that he remembered what had happened the previous evening. He had fallen in bed with Granger, and she had agreed to let him stay – no, she had _insisted_ – because he was so tired. He glanced nervously next to him.

She wasn't there. The bed was empty, and was cold to touch, which meant she hadn't been there for a while. Given that Granger couldn't walk properly, that probably meant Tilly had helped her.

With a wince, Draco remembered some of what had happened the evening before. A small part of his mind foggily remembered calling her by her first name.

 _Goodnight Hermione…_

When he thought about that, he shuddered. How could saying someone's first name seem so intimate? He imagined her calling him _Draco_ , and it caused his stomach to flutter. Then he recalled something else. Wrapping one of her curls around his finger. Watching as it sprung back…

 _Oh fucking hell,_ he cursed himself. What a complete idiot. He may as well just hang a sign around his neck that said "I'm Obsessed With You". He could only hope that she would dismiss it as the dazed actions of someone who was out of their mind. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself off the bed and stretched. It was amazing how much better he felt, but when he looked at the clock on the wall he realised he had been asleep for almost ten hours. No wonder he'd had time to fully heal.

Draco awkwardly pulled on a clean shirt – opting for a steely grey colour instead of his more typical black. He stiffly manoeuvred it over his head and the bandage that Tilly had wrapped around his waist. With another deep breath and a silent pep talk to himself, he exited the bedroom.

Granger wasn't in the living room, but he heard her voice coming softly through from the kitchen. As he moved towards the entrance, he paused to listen. She was chatting to Tilly, and he could also hear the muffled crackling of bacon on the stove. It made his stomach clench in hunger as the smell wafted towards him.

"…know where this is ?" he caught the second half of Granger's question.

"We are somewhere in the north, Miss, but Tilly cannot say more."

"So it's warded to stop you saying where it is?"

"Yes Miss."

"When did he buy it?"

Draco could tell they were talking about the cottage.

"After he is returning from Hogwarts. Master is wanting to escape and so he bough an untraceable home."

"Why untraceable? I mean…aside from the wards."

Draco swallowed, knowing he should interrupt, but interested to hear what was making Granger so curious.

"He bought it from the muggle people."

Granger made a noise of surprise.

"Really? You mean he voluntarily interacted with them?"

"Yes, lots of times, Miss."

"Well that's a surprise."

"Is it? Why is Miss surprised?"

He heard Granger snort, and he leaned closer towards the doorway, his heart beat quickening.

"Because he's Draco Malfoy. He hates muggles and muggle-borns..." she trailed off and he could hear Tilly dishing up food from the clinking of china plates. After a short pause, the elf replied.

"But Miss, _you_ is muggle-born, and Master Draco says that you-"

Draco felt his gut leap in the air and he quickly stepped forward into the kitchen.

"Tilly," he said sharply, his eyes warning her not to continue that sentence. Granger spun around in surprise at his entrance, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at him. She was sitting in a chair near the bench in the centre of the kitchen, on a towering pile of cushions. She was slumped forward on the counter lop-sided, and her voice was still quite hoarse, but she appeared more alert than before.

"How is Master feeling?" Tilly asked quickly, her eyes wide and apologetic. He hoped she didn't get it into her head to punish herself later. He'd have to remember to order her not to do anything to herself.

"Much better…" his eyes moved over to Granger and his gaze softened instinctively, "…thank you."

She grimaced and looked down.

"I didn't do anything, you just sort of…collapsed," she murmured, her cheeks flushing. Draco snorted softly.

"Yes, but you _let_ me. And you didn't have to."

Granger looked uncomfortable but nodded anyway. At that moment Tilly hovered two plates over to rest gently on the counter. One placed itself in front of Granger, and the other came to rest in front of the empty chair next to her. Draco shot her a cautious look, but when she didn't respond, he took that as passive permission to sit. He moved over and slowly sat down, keeping his eyes on the delicious food Tilly had prepared. He heard Granger take a deep breath, smelling the bacon and scrambled eggs.

"Mmm… thank you Ti-" when she looked up at the house elf, her voice cut off and she made a sound of surprise instead. Draco looked up as well and saw that Tilly had in fact disappeared completely from the kitchen.

He shook his head wryly. The damn elf had done it on purpose to leave him alone with Granger.

"Tilly is…an unusual elf," he commented lightly, picking up his fork and starting to dig into the food. He was famished. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger turn to stare at him.

"Well, she seems quite fond of _you._ So yeh, that is pretty unusual."

Draco nearly choked on his food. He coughed a little bit, reaching over to grab the coffee that was sitting nearby and taking a big sip. He turned his head to meet her eye. She looked half amused and half judgmental. It was a strange mix of emotions, but somehow she pulled it off.

"Wow, princess," he retorted with a smug little half-smirk, "the claws are out this morning."

Her expression deepened into a scowl.

"Stop calling me that."

"What?"

"Princess."

His smirk widened.

"Why not?"

"Because it's condescending. And it makes me uncomfortable."

Draco chuckled and returned to eating his food.

"And here I thought it was a term of endearment."

Granger picked up her fork with a little bit too much violence, and Draco kept one eye on that hand warily. He wouldn't put it past her to stab him in the eye if he threatened her precious honour.

"Just shut up and eat your breakfast," she spat sulkily, digging into her own eggs. He did as she asked, smiling into his plate as he hungrily ate. Occasionally he glanced across at her. He wondered if it was weird how sexy he thought she was when she was being bossy. Even though she was clearly nervous and self-conscious sitting here is his kitchen, Granger still appeared so natural. She just sort of blended into her surroundings, as if they'd just woken up together and were sitting having breakfast as lovers would. He couldn't help but allow the silly flutter of joy in his stomach at the domestic little scene his mind painted.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he eventually asked once enough time had passed in silence.

Granger turned to him, chewing on her bacon thoughtfully. She grimaced a little and, instead of answering his question, asked one of her own.

"Where is my wand?"

Draco swallowed a mouthful and sighed. He had been expecting this question, but still wasn't quite prepared to answer it. He owed it to her, though.

"Well…" he started, but paused to watch her face anxiously. Her expression clearly pressed him to keep talking, "Bellatrix snapped it after you left," he said slowly.

Hermione looked struck by pain for a second, and she blinked a couple of times.

"Oh."

He leaned in slightly closer towards her.

"I'm sorry, Granger. If I could have salvaged it without risk of being discovered…"

"What? You would have saved it? I doubt that." She looked at him a little accusingly then, her mouth set in a firm pout of anger.

"You don't believe me?"

"Why should I?" she spat back, pushing her plate away. He frowned and waited for her to keep speaking. She was clearly upset from the news about her wand. Not to mention she had a chip on her shoulder the size of Wales, and he knew that when she wanted to speak her mind she usually did no matter the opposition. Her teeth were biting into her lip now in determination. "According to you I _stole_ that wand in the first place, so why would you ever help get it back for me?"

Draco blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"Why would I think that?" he asked, confused.

"That's what you and your friends have been accusing us of."

With a breath of understanding, Draco realised she was referring to that horrid Muggleborn Registration Committee. His father had boasted to him about how ingenious it had been. He remembered that at the time he had thought it was completely idiotic and no one would ever believe it in a million years. It seemed he had been wrong.

"Granger-"

"I mean, for all I know you're just pretending to heal me and be nice to me, but it could all just be another plan to get information from me."

He balked at that comment. He thought they'd made better progress than that in the last couple of days. It left him with a sick feeling to his stomach.

"Woah, slow down, Granger-"

"If you're going to torture me more, then just do it already."

"I don't want to bloody torture you," he yelled, slapping his hand down on the counter. Granger stared at him, her eyes challenging him. She wasn't backing down.

"You hate people like me. You're a Death Eater, Malfoy…" she said slowly with deliberate emphasis on each word.

"Well yes, but that doesn't mean that I want to be."

"Then why did you just stand there?" she said with a hoarse edge to her voice. She still couldn't speak too loudly and it was clearly giving her pain to do so.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"While your own family tortured me you just stood there watching. I begged you to do something! I _begged!_ So forgive me if I don't believe your little story."

"I saved you!" he shouted.

"You call _this_ saving me?" Right in front of his eyes, Granger ripped the bandage off her arm, exposing the hateful word that had been carved into her.

 _Mudblood._

Draco stared at it in horror for a few moments. It had started to heal, but was still a deep, violent red. The word would never fade from her skin. He wanted to back away, to run, but he was paralysed with repulsion. Not from _her_ , but from the sickening thought that he really had stood by and let his aunt deform her forever. She had every right to be angry. His image of the domestic little kitchen scene vanished in an instant. His only thought was that he had to make amends somehow. It would never be enough, but he could at least try.

"Granger, listen to me. Please." When she didn't keep yelling at him, he took that as a good sign, and waited for her to calm down a little and return his gaze evenly.

"You bought your wand from Ollivander's when you were eleven," she seemed surprised at what he was saying, but he pushed on quickly, "You tried a few different ones until you found the _right_ one. You didn't choose it, it chose _you._ " He paused for a brief second until Granger nodded curtly, "You don't always understand the traditions and behaviours of the wizarding world, but you understand magic. You feel it in you when you cast spells, and it feels _right,_ like one of your limbs, it's a part of you," he took a deep breath and waited for her to react somehow. She was staring at him with steely eyes, but after a few long, painful seconds that felt like minutes, her face softened.

"It's not going to go away, is it?" she finally murmured quietly, her voice croaky from overuse as her eyes flickered down to the grotesque figures on her arm.

"No," he replied, letting his body relax just a bit, "I'm sorry, I tried everything I could to heal it, but…"

"I know," she interrupted softly.

He gave her a few moments to collect herself. After a few deep breaths she lifted her doe-like eyes to him and asked,

"So you _don't_ think I stole my magic?"

Draco snorted.

"Hardly. Only an imbecile would believe that complete load of shit. You've been besting me in every subject since we were eleven. I get it. You're a bloody pain in the ass, but you're definitely a witch."

Granger sniffed a little, her expression still a little cross. Her lips were pursed in a small pout of stubbornness.

"Then why did you hate me so much? Why were you so horrible?"

Draco shrugged and awkwardly picked at some bacon on his plate. He bit off a few crunchy pieces while she waited patiently.

"Jealous, I suppose. How could I face my father every holiday and admit that someone like you had beaten me? Someone I'd been told since I was born was beneath me."

Granger considered that for a few tense moments.

"So what changed?"

He shifted awkwardly in his seat as his brain worked furiously to think of something to say that wouldn't give away his pathetic secret.

"I guess nothing _changed._ I just grew up. And found out that I actually didn't have much in common with my father after all." Granger was still looking at him with extreme cynicism, and he sighed with regret. She would probably never completely believe him. "Look, it's not important what I think. The important thing is that you're safe here. I'm not going to hand you back over."

Granger nodded eventually, although a little distrustfully.

"I suppose that will have to do for now," she finally said with a sniff of distaste, before she pulled her plate closer once again and tucked into her food.

Draco stared at her for a moment in disbelief. She had just returned to her breakfast as if nothing was wrong.

 _Stubborn Gryffindor pride…_ he thought with a sneer and he began to eat in earnest again himself. After a while he built up the courage to turn and speak to her again.

"I thought after breakfast we could read through some of my books on curse wounds and figure out what to do about your arm." Granger raised one eyebrow and studied him curiously; "I can even get some of the more gruesome dark arts tomes from the Manor library and see if we can find a way to reduce the damage…" he trailed off self-consciously as she stared at him. After what seemed like an age, she spoke,

"Fine," her voice was curt and she turned back to her food quickly, but not soon enough for him to miss the look of pleased surprise on her face. After a short pause she added in a much more amiable voice, spoken down to her nearly empty plate, "Thank you."

Draco smirked.

"No problem, Princess."

He could feel her shudder angrily next to him, and his smile widened, tugging one side of his lips up in a wry, satisfied grin.

Somehow he had survived this round.

...

Later that evening they were sitting side by side on the couch, each with their head buried in a text. Draco had been reading steadily for a few hours, but as it got later he had become more and more distracted. By Granger, of course. He kept glancing up at her and watching her read. It felt like he was back in the library at Hogwarts, obsessing over the Gryffindor doing her homework. So far, they had managed to find a few spells to help with her nerve pain, but nothing yet on the type of dagger or spell that Bellatrix had used on her arm. But Granger was still determined. She was frowning in concentration at the text on her lap as she read, her lower lip red and swollen from being bitten. She was curled up across the end of the couch, wiggling her toes back and forth to help the blood flow.

This was his fantasy when he bought the cottage. Well, maybe without the torture part, as she still had difficulty moving and was taking pain potions. But when he had first inspected the place with the muggle realtor, he had pictured this exact scene. Sitting on the couch with Hermione Granger and reading together. Ok, so perhaps his fantasies were a little cosier. They would more likely be cuddled up together, and Draco would be holding his book with one hand while his other toyed with her curls as she tucked her head under his chin. But this wasn't too bad considering the situation.

He didn't realise that while his mind had been wandering, Granger had looked up and caught him staring at her. Granger's brows creased together and she cocked her head to one side. Draco felt his heart skip and he cleared his throat a little, returning his gaze to his book.

 _Get a grip,_ he reminded himself sternly, pretending that nothing had happened. When some time had passed his eyes flicked back up to her and he saw with an unpleasant start that she was still watching him.

"Is everything ok?" he asked wryly, aiming for casual.

She pursed her lips and shrugged uncomfortably.

"I just…you…" she sighed and changed her tone, "I think I should go to bed now. I'm getting tired."

Draco cursed himself for making her feel awkward enough that she wanted to leave. Putting his book down with forced nonchalance, he nodded to her.

"Don't push yourself if you're not ready," he said in agreement, before turning to the room, "Tilly!"

There was a silent pause in which no house elf appeared.

"Tilly?" he called again. She still didn't respond.

 _Damn elf,_ he thought to himself. He turned back to Granger, smiling sheepishly.

"She's not the most obedient elf," he joked, but that seemed to only make Granger frown more, so he sobered quickly. "Can you walk?"

She shook her head, looking a little worried.

"I don't think so."

Draco sighed and rose to his feet, moving to stand next to her.

"I could use a levitation charm, but after those nerve charms we did earlier I'm not sure…"

Granger winced.

"The text said seven to eight hours should be left in between."

"Of course you memorised it," he teased with a roll of his eyes. That _almost_ made her smile.

"Ok," he started, running his hand through his hair and messing it up a little as he thought this through, "I guess, just put your arm around my neck and I'll carry you there."

When he leaned closer, it took Granger forever to do as he suggested. He almost backed away, thinking she wouldn't, based on the pained look on her face, but then finally she lifted her right arm. Slowly she looped it around him and shuffled to the very edge of the couch.

 _Oh merlin, this is torture,_ he thought with an internal groan. He was sure she hadn't used her usual shampoo when Tilly helped her shower earlier, but for some insane reason she still smelled like apples and cinnamon.

Scooping his other arm under her knees, he hoisted her into his arms. Granger felt so damn soft against him; he froze for a split second. When he registered the feeling of her soft breasts pressed against him through the thin t-shirt she was wearing, he stumbled a bit and groaned out loud this time.

"I'm sorry, am I too heavy?" she asked worriedly, but he pursed his lips and shook his head curtly. Granger relaxed again, but he was petrified that, pressed against him as she was, she would feel his heart pounding. He quickly made his way into the bedroom and started to lower her down. Once she was mostly on the bed, he removed his arms slowly, feeling his skin brush against her and sending shivers down his spine. And that wasn't the only reaction he was having. Placing her on his bed bridal style was not doing his sense of longing any favours. He felt a tightening in his navel, and he hurriedly straightened up.

"Well…do you need anything else?" he asked, desperate to get out of there.

"No," she said, and he gratefully turned to leave, before she spoke again and he froze, "But, I was just wondering...is there another bedroom in the house?"

"No," he said slowly, confused by her question.

She squirmed a little on the bed, and he realised what was bothering her. Immediately he let his cockiest smile play on his face as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Why, Granger? Does being in _my_ bed unnerve you?"

Her look of anxiety quickly turned to that bossy, cross look he loved so much.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" she spluttered.

"It's ok if it unsettles you, princess, just be honest."

She huffed out an angry breath.

" _Goodnight_ Malfoy," she said with forceful emphasis that was clearly telling him to piss off. Draco's smile only widened as that warmth in the bottom of his gut started to burn.

"Sweet dreams," he said with a cheeky grin as he closed the door behind him.

 _Ok, so maybe it's not my original fantasy,_ he thought with a chuckle, _but it's enough for now._


	9. Supported

**Author's Note: Here is a quick update. I will actually be uploading the next chapter quite soon as well I think. It's going to get a bit murky soon. JKR can, as always, transfigure magic out of thin air!**

"Stop staring at me like I'm going to curse you and get up."

Draco tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Granger to take his outstretched hands. She was staring at them as if she wasn't sure whether to leap into them or run as fast as she could the other way.

While doing some research they had decided that they would try some different nerve charms. When Draco had begun to cast the spells, she had impulsively decided that if they were going to make progress, she would have to practice walking and moving around. He had agreed instantly. But now she was chewing on her bottom lip and looking around the living room uncertainly.

"I don't know. What if I fall? Should we add some cushioning charms?"

Draco couldn't stop the chuckle from bubbling up and past his lips.

"Really, Granger? I thought you trusted me."

She snorted, quirking an eyebrow up at him in disbelief.

"Where did you get that crazy idea from?"

His smile only widened.

"You mean apart from my obvious dependability?"

Granger lowered her head, but not before he caught a glimpse of her wry smile. After she took a few deep, encouraging breaths, she finally raised her eyes to meet his, this time with determination.

"Alright. Let's do this."

She reached out and took his hands gently. He wrapped his fingers around hers, the contact sending pinpricks of yearning through him. Just linking their fingers together was like the promise of pleasure. His skin felt starved for more, and he was overcome by the fierce need to feel all of her. He had never had such a visceral physical reaction to something so innocent. He was sure that if she wasn't so focused on getting her feet steady, then she would have noticed the intensity on his face, the way his eyes had widened as he stared at her, and the shivers passing up and down his arms from where he held her.

Finally she built up the courage and effort to hoist herself off the couch. He helped by pulling on her hands and then keeping her steady once she was upright. For a second, she teetered and almost fell forwards, but he stepped closer so that she could lean her weight on him. They were so close it was making him want to roll his eyes back into his head. He could feel her little puffs of air on his neck as she panted and concentrated on her balance. After a moment he let her have more space as she prepared to walk.

"Ok, Granger. Let's juts take this nice and slow."

"Alright," she said through gritted teeth.

Then she took a step forward. Her legs were clearly shaking, but she managed to support herself and keep her balance.

"That's good. Let's go for another one," he tried to sound upbeat, but she raised her head to glare at him.

"Can you _not?_ " she spat, her face flushing with anger.

"Hey, I'm trying to be positive here."

She huffed out an irritated breath, blowing the curls away from her face.

"Exactly, it's unsettling," she retorted.

Draco smirked, amused by her irritation. She didn't like him being nice to her, he noticed. In fact, she was visibly uncomfortable with him when he was being charming. He thought maybe it was because it was easier for her to accept his presence when he was a smarmy git like she remembered him. Once she had taken a couple more steps, with him moving slowly backwards and tugging her along, he squeezed her hands.

"You're doing a shit job, Granger."

She actually laughed out loud then.

"That's much better," she said with a genuine smile that made his heart beat a little faster, "tough love is much more your style."

Draco smiled drolly to himself, thinking how much he'd like to really give her some _tough love._

"You only have to ask, Granger," he said cockily, wondering how far he could push her while she was in a good mood.

Her eyes darted to his in surprise. She had been staring at her feet as she walked slowly across the room, but now she was gazing at him in shock, her mouth hanging open.

"What the-" she started, but then suddenly gasped as she lost her equilibrium. Draco smoothly stepped forward to catch her as she toppled forward. But when his arms came around her she panicked, and when she tried to push him off, they both tumbled to the ground. Draco fell first onto his back with a hard thump, and she ended up sprawled on top of him, her brown curls falling to curtain them both.

"Damnit, Malfoy!" she yelled down at him, her face scrunched up into an adorable frown.

"Hey, I'm not the one who freaked out."

"You distracted me!"

Draco rolled his eyes and rested his hands on her waist to help her up. She squirmed around a bit as she rolled off him, and he had to grit his teeth and think of Umbridge to stop himself from getting aroused.

"Well it's not my fault you find me so distracting," he hissed out through his teeth as he pushed her hips off him as quickly as he possible could. She was so warm and it was turning his brain to liquid want.

Granger groaned and shoved him further away.

"For goodness sake, Malfoy! Are you always this arrogant?"

"Are you always this clumsy?"

Granger let out a little scream of frustration and she shifted her legs so they weren't still spread out over his thighs. Draco just managed to get a hand out to stop her knee from bumping into his crotch, afraid of his body's reaction. He wanted to laugh at her ungainliness but had a feeling she'd slap him if he did. Not that he didn't enjoy the first time she had slapped him. In fact, even though it had only been third year and he'd still hated her, at the time even he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. Pushing her to get so angry that she would strike him with unbridled rage across the face had made him quiver with some unfamiliar feeling. But his third year self hadn't known how to deal with those conflicting thoughts, and he'd studiously denied and repressed them.

So it was very difficult not to smile lewdly at her when she was getting angry with him again. Especially as he knew it was mostly an act. If she had been really mad at him, she wouldn't still have her feet draped across him, making no serious move to get up. That thought alone made him want to grab hold of her and move her closer to him, instead of just watching her glare crossly at him.

"I'm trying my best, alright? It's hard!" she scolded

Draco was about to reply with a witty retort that would have been far too inappropriate, when pain suddenly tore through his arm. It was the only thing that could have instantly erased his good mood. And he had been in a good mood. Spending the morning with Granger, _flirting_ with Granger had been so much more than he could have imagined. And even though she still snapped at him, her tone had lost its harsh edge. And now he was being called back to the manor. Back to Voldemort.

Draco grasped his arm, clenching his teeth together and jumping to his feet. He heard Granger behind him scrambling to pull herself up onto the nearby couch. He didn't want her to see his hurt and shame, but of course Granger was far too perceptive for that. He had practically shoved her off him in his haste to escape her notice.

"Malfoy?" she asked sharply, panting for breath.

Draco spun around to face her guiltily. She was sitting perched on the couch where she had pulled herself up. Her clothes and hair were all skewed from their tumble, but her eyes were clear and intent. His hand clenched tighter around his forearm, and Granger finally dropped her gaze to see his white knuckled grip.

"Wait…" she began hesitantly.

"I have to go," Draco interrupted, pulling out his wand and conjuring his robe and his mask in a whirl of black. He started to fling the robe round his shoulder as he made his way to the door.

"No, wait a moment, you can't just-"

"What?" he asked sharply, pivoting quickly to face her again where she sat confused on the couch. When she just looked at him with wide, fearful eyes, he sighed and took a step closer, "Look, Granger-" he started to run his hand through his pale blonde hair, tugging it up and causing a mess.

"So… he just calls you and you turn up?" she finally said softly.

"Yes." He didn't know what else to say. He'd always resented being a Death Eater. He simply didn't enjoy it. But meeting her wide, betrayed gaze now, he realised he'd never felt more ashamed of himself.

"Why? Why can't you stay here?"

Draco ignored the twinge of hope he felt at her _wanting_ him to stay, even if she probably didn't mean stay with _her_.

"Stay here? Are you insane, Granger?"

She frowned, her lips drawing into a pout.

"Well, why not? Tilly said this place is warded and untraceable!"

Draco laughed coldly.

"We're talking about the Dark Lord here. No protection could stop him from hunting me down if he even suspected that I was unwilling, let alone harbouring a…" he trailed off guiltily, and lowered his head. A few blonde hairs drooped down over his eyes.

"A mudblood," Granger said through pursed lips, "Right?"

Draco lifted his eyes again to peer at her through his hair.

"A muggleborn," he corrected quietly, causing Granger's frown to deepen in confusion. She was thinking hard and Draco shuffled a bit nervously on his feet, knowing he didn't have a lot of time to apparate to Voldemort's side.

"But Malfoy…" she started slowly, twirling her fingers together in her lap, "Isn't You-Know-Who an expert at legilimency? I mean, couldn't he just-"

"It's alright," he reassured her in a quiet, falsely calm voice, "I've been studying occlumency for years. He doesn't suspect a thing about you being here. As far as any of the Death Eaters know I am a devoted follower and servant of the Dark Lord."

Hermione nodded slowly before leaning closer to him. Her face was scrunched up into an adorably puzzled expression.

"Are you?" she asked in a whispering voice that he had to strain to hear.

He returned her gaze evenly, knowing that she already had the answer; she just hadn't wanted to accept it yet. But Granger had good instincts, and deep down she knew he wasn't really a Death Eater.

Before Draco could answer her, another lash of pain rocketed up his arm in a cold wave. He hissed and cradled his arm to his stomach. Granger looked at him with unconcealed terror.

"Go," she urged quietly, "You should go. I'm sorry."

Draco stared at her for another intense moment, wishing he could stay and prolong this moment. He felt like they were finally breaking down some walls, and now he had to leave to go to the side of the man trying to kill everyone like her. Eventually the pain became too much, and he nodded mutely to her, grateful for her sudden understanding. Reluctantly, he turned and started donning his cloak and mask as he left behind the cottage and Granger.

…...

Draco was dragging his feet a bit as he walked towards the muggleborn house they had been sent to. He had arrived at the manor just in time to avoid the Dark Lord's temper. He had actually been quite lucky that Mulciber and a couple of his cronies had been even later, so Draco's absence was barely noted. He had managed to slip in and stand towards the back near his mother, who didn't even glance his way. She had been curling a long piece of hair around her finger that had managed to escape her bun, and swaying from side to side as she smiled at the paintings. Seeing Narcissa like this made his heart break a little, but a part of him preferred her crazy and happy, rather than sane and aware of the horrors going on in her own home, committed by her own husband. He supposed it was better in the end that she was mad.

Draco shook his head and concentrated on where he was going, since it was dark and he couldn't quite trust his footing on the steep hill. There were anti-apparition wards on the place, but the stupid family had not protected themselves enough against anyone who could just walk in. Voldemort had gathered the inner circle of Death Eaters earlier to go out on a few separate raids to punish wizards and witches who were defying the new order by protesting against the treatment of their mudblood spouses. Draco shivered in anticipation of what would happen when they got there. He had managed to avoid most of the more gruesome raids and so-called festivities because of his relative youth. But he had a bad feeling his father had insisted that Draco join him on this one. Maybe it was some kind of perverted form of father-son bonding.

In an attempt to ignore what was probably about to go down, Draco turned his thoughts to Granger. As he had arrived at the manor, he had quickly called Tilly and asked her to stay at the cottage with the Gryffindor to take care of her. Although he couldn't help noticing at dinner the previous night and then breakfast and lunch today, Tilly and Granger had formed some kind of weird bond. He didn't really know who was looking after whom. Granger was overly polite to the elf, and Tilly seemed touched by, if a little wary of, her kindness. Draco allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. She was incorrigible. The righteous little swot was determined to be nice to everyone and everything.

Draco's thoughts were halted by their arrival at the house. There were bright cheery lights glowing inside, and vines growing over the brickwork. It had one of those sweet little paths winding up to the front door. It was a lovely house. Draco could hear a child laughing inside. With a gesture of his father's hand, the small group of Death Eaters split up to prowl around the perimeter of the house. Draco wanted to run. He wanted to throw an unforgivable at his father. He wanted to go home to Granger.

"Are you ready, son?" Lucius whispered to him, a sick gleam in his eye.

Draco shrugged non-committedly, aiming for blasé.

"I suppose," he sneered.

His father glared across at him. Draco could remember a time when he had been scared of that look. Lucius had seemed so towering and imposing when Draco was younger. But now he had grown so much he was the same height as his father, even a little taller.

"It is a precious gift to honour our lord, Draco."

Draco nodded in casual agreement, inwardly laughing at how robotic his father sounded.

"Sure, father. I'm looking forward to it," he said as sarcastically as he dared. Too much, by the look of it.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, boy. This isn't some kind of joke."

Draco sobered immediately. His lip twitched with disdain, but he didn't let it show too much.

"Don't worry, father. I don't think it's a joke either."

Lucius looked at him darkly, before sniffing and waving at him imperiously to get into position. Draco obediently went round to the back door, his stomach turning over with fear and disgust.

After a few moments, he heard the first bang as Lucius and Dolohov stormed through the front. The laughing child started screaming. The sound of glass shattering reverberated through the still night air. A man's voice yelling was suddenly cut off mid-scream.

Draco suppressed the urge to retch. He needed to get through this. He needed to. He shakily drew on his occlumency walls, concentrating with all his energy and closing his eyes to focus on the feeling of numbness it brought.

Then he entered the house.

...

 **Thanks for reading. Sorry for the sort-of-cliffhanger: please review!**


	10. Consoled

**Author's Note: Here is another chapter quite soon! This is some of the 'murkiness' I promised. But not to worry, I'm sure you'll forgive me. As always, JKR is the brightest witch of her age!**

It was dark.

The moon was shrouded by dark storm clouds that had gathered throughout the evening. They were ready to break open any minute. Occasional specks of static lightening pockmarked the sky as if warming up for the main event.

Draco wondered idly if the weather was somehow channelling his mood. Surely it wasn't a coincidence that the sky wanted to open up and wash away everything that night.

Shivering as a growl of thunder vibrated through the floor, Draco slumped down against the bathroom counter. He wrapped his arms around his knees and started to rock back and forth gently. He didn't even laugh at himself for the cliché image he was portraying. All Draco wanted to do was to close his eyes and not see those images burned on the back of his lids. He had to forcefully bite down into his bottom lip to muffle the involuntary sounds that seemed to be escaping his mouth. He didn't want to wake Granger. He had snuck into the cottage in the pitch black, passing like a ghost through the living room and the bedroom where she was sleeping peacefully, and into the bathroom. Draco had numbly splashed some ice-cold water onto his face with shaking hands, and now he was sitting on the floor unable to move, staring unseeingly into the dark in front of him.

Flickers of what had just happened brushed across Draco's memory, pushing away the tiredness jarringly.

 _I'm a murderer…_

When the girl's round blue eyes swept across his mind, Draco gasped and retched. Scrambling to open the lid of the toilet, he only just got it up in time before he was emptying the contents of his stomach violently into the bowl. The blood in his ears was roaring so loud he only faintly heard a thud from the bedroom. After a while Draco was just collapsed there heaving on air without bringing anything up. He struggled to take a couple of rasping breaths in between convulsions, and slumped forward to rest his head on the cold porcelain seat.

"Malfoy?"

Draco didn't even look up at the voice. He knew it was _her._ He had woken her up, after all. But he didn't want her to see him like this. Maybe if he didn't answer her she would leave him alone.

He heard his name a couple more times, but then it went silent. Draco breathed out in relief, thinking that she must have given up. But then he felt a prickling in the back of his neck and suddenly a warm hand was gently touching his shoulder.

Draco felt his entire body tense up in shock.

Granger was touching his shoulder. Softly, comfortingly. She was trying to make him feel better.

And he had just killed someone.

The violent reaction to her touch swelled up in him quite suddenly. Unable to stop the response, he swung his body around and pushed her arm away. Then with a groan of pain, none of it physical, he huddled in on himself and away from her.

Granger was sitting on the floor next to him, and it was clear she had crawled into the bathroom on all fours since she couldn't walk unsupported yet.

He stared at her with wide, steely eyes that widened even further when he saw her wriggle closer to him again.

"Malfoy…" she began, and he flinched at her gentle tone, "what's happened? Are you hurt?"

Draco just shook his head silently. Granger frowned and moved closer again. They were sitting just a few centimetres apart now. If he twitched his fingers he'd be touching her.

"Tell me what's wrong," she urged, and Draco closed his eyes to avoid looking at her.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, "You should leave."

Granger sighed quietly, but he felt her breath ripple over the skin of his face.

"Please…it's ok, _Draco_ -"

His eyes shot open. The combination of sensory pleasure and revulsion that swept through him at hearing his name fall from her innocent lips was overwhelming. He almost had to grab onto the counter behind him to steady himself.

"Don't!" he yelled suddenly, surprising even himself and terrifying her, "Don't do this to me!"

"Do what to you?" she asked, confused.

He groaned and tugged at his hair, pulling it so hard it made his scalp tingle.

"Don't try to make me feel better."

Granger shook her head, curls bouncing gently around her face.

"Ok, but… I just want to understand."

Draco shook his head a couple of times. It wasn't until he noticed that Granger had become a blurry figure in front of him that he realised he had been quietly crying. He furiously wiped the tears away, humiliated. Granger swallowed and leaned forwards.

"Did he do something to you?"

Draco shook his head and cringed away from her. She drew back a little and thought for a bit. Eventually she spoke again, her voice tremulous.

"Was it something _you_ had to do?"

Draco returned her gaze then, and he saw the horror in her eyes which probably reflected his own. After a long silence she seemed to put two and two together, and nodded more to herself than to him. He couldn't look at her then. He was ashamed of himself and seeing her disapproval and fear would only make the feeling worse.

It must have been a few long minutes later that she finally moved. He felt the same hand reach out again and touch his shoulder. She just let it rest there gently. It was achingly tender, and he couldn't stop a few more tears escaping his eyes.

"Draco," she said again in a hoarse voice and he knew she could feel the goose bumps prickle all over his skin from where her hand lay. Despite the guilt gnawing into his gut, he couldn't stop his body from leaning in towards her.

"It's ok. Tell me what happened tonight. Trust me."

Draco took a long, shaky breath. He knew revealing his actions to her would make her hate him forever, but he wasn't sure he could stop himself. In the face of her gentle persuasion and the closeness of her body he felt compelled to speak. Even if it would ruin everything, she had to know.

"The Dark Lo… _He_ ordered a raid on the houses of muggleborn sympathisers. My father requested my company in his group. We went to the house of a man who was married to a muggleborn woman. He's been quite vocal at the ministry in her defence, and we were there to teach him a lesson and make a statement to others. I couldn't…refuse…without making him suspicious. I wanted to…"

Granger nodded quickly, silently, and moved her hand down from his shoulder to wrap her fragile fingers around his hand. Draco felt his own fingers twitch in response, trying not to dwell on the feeling of her comforting him, understanding him when he didn't deserve it. But it wouldn't last.

"We arrived at the house and broke in, took them by surprise so they couldn't escape. The main targets were the father and daughter, but there were some other people there, his siblings I'm guessing. They started to run. While Rowle was grabbing one I pretended to help so the two who were running towards me could get out. I don't think anyone noticed. It's all I could do, but it wasn't enough. Lucius had the father restrained in the living room and made him watch while they tortured his daughter. It lasted for so long. It reminded me of when…"

He trailed off, unable to finish that thought, but he was pretty sure Granger understood. She was biting into her bottom lip as she also remembered being prostrate on the floor of the manor under Bellatrix's wand. She was still holding on to his hand, but she gave his fingers a little squeeze to encourage him to continue.

"They just kept torturing this girl. The father wasn't even really conscious to watch anymore but it kept going because they were enjoying it. My father kept calling over to me, suggesting things that I might like to do to hurt her. She was so young, Granger. At first I had thought my father would step in and do something to stop it…"

Draco took a deep breath. There were tears freely rolling down his face now. And Granger was still gripping onto his hand like a vice.

"He's a sadistic bastard, but I thought he would at least be more mission-oriented or something. But he was cheering Rowle on and then joining in. Then he suggested something else. I couldn't-"

Draco choked a bit on the words, and hung his head in shame. He felt Granger shuffle closer to him until her leg was pressed alongside his. He appreciated the warmth of her body even as if wished he could sink through the floor.

"I couldn't just watch anymore, and I couldn't let anything worse happen. So I ended it. I…" he trailed off and let out a heavy sob. Granger's hand stiffened around his, until he was sure his fingers would be bruised in the morning.

"You killed her," Granger whispered. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Draco let out a heaving sob.

"No," he said hoarsely, "Well, I did, but I didn't mean to. I just tried to put her to sleep-" he was talking quickly, frantically, trying to make Granger understand. Even though she would probably hate him anyway, "I cast an undetectable stupefy so they wouldn't notice. I didn't want her to feel any more pain. But she had been tortured so long that the stupefy caused an aneurysm…"

Draco broke off then and his head dropped forward tiredly. His forehead fell into his hands and he let his fingers grip onto her hair. His shoulders shook silently as he waited for Granger to run – or in her case crawl – away. He was hoping she'd yell at him first. He deserved it. Maybe it would redeem him somehow to be scolded by the Gryffindor Princess.

"Oh Merlin," he heard her whispering in horror, and he cringed, preparing himself. But it never came. He waited and waited, his body wracked with guilt and self-loathing, but she didn't speak.

It felt like hours that they sat there side by side on the cold bathroom tiles, but it must have only been a few minutes. By the time his curiosity had got the better of him, the sound of the rain pattering down on the tiled roof had trickled into the room. As a flash of lightening, stronger this time, split the sky and lit up the bathroom momentarily, he dared to look up at her. The first thing Draco noticed was that she was crying too. Big crystal tears were falling in a perfect line from her dark lashed down her cheek and dripping off her jaw. And she was staring at the opposite wall in undisguised horror. A second wave of nausea hit him.

Granger must have sensed his gaze, because she turned to look at him. When she did, the expression quickly morphed into one of concern.

"Oh Draco…" she started, her voice soft, mournful, and he felt a sharp twinge in his chest. Well she wasn't hitting him, so that was a good start, he thought, "I'm so sorry."

He almost choked as he drew in a gasp of air. Those few sweet words coming from her lips were like a balm to his soul. He felt his skin prickling all over as he leaned closer to her.

"I…didn't mean to, I swear," he repeated, not knowing what else to say.

"I know," she said, and the hand that had been holding his so tightly shifted in his grip so that her thumb could brush over his skin in a gesture of compassion, "Draco, it wasn't you fault. You tried to help her. But it sounds like there was nothing you could have done to save her."

Draco clenched his eyes shut for a second and pulled his hand away abruptly. He didn't know how to cope with her kindness. He knew he deserved to be yelled at, struck, abandoned. Not comforted.

"But I could have acted sooner. Why did I wait so long?"

"Draco, you didn't-""

"Maybe if I'd gotten into the house first before Rowle-"

"No, stop it!" Granger said more loudly, and he fell silent. Her wide brown eyes were staring right through him, and he realised whimsically that he'd never been this close to her before. He could see flecks of gold in her eyes that he had never noticed. Draco couldn't move, he was completely frozen as she reached her hands up again. This time, she pressed a palm to each of his cheeks and tilted his face up to force him to keep looking at her.

"You did what you could. She was in pain, Draco. Trust me when I say I know what that feels like. And you ended her pain. If you hadn't been there, no one would have escaped and she might still be tortured or _worse_ right now until she died screaming." Draco hated the violent, tortured words she was saying, but he couldn't seem to stop listening as they washed over him like the rain outside washing away the dirt. "You can't save everyone, Draco."

He felt another couple of fat tears leak from his eyes as he looked at her with the most exposed, desperate expression he had ever allowed to slip past his barriers. Until now, Granger's grip on his face had been firm, almost clinical. His jaw was aching from the force of her hold. But slowly her fingers softened. After a while he felt the very tips of her fingers brush across his hairline, scratching at his scalp. It was the most decadent, sensual feeling he had ever experienced, and he had to shut his eyes just to stop himself from leaning towards her.

"You saved me," she murmured, her voice a little husky now, and all he could do was nod, still refusing to open his eyes to see her or he knew he'd cave.

After a while he felt Granger lean back against the counter so her body mirrored his. Then, with her hands still touching him, she drew his head to the side towards her.

Draco's heart was pounding and his mouth was so dry he felt like his tongue was a hot slug burning against the roof of his mouth. He was feverish, sick and emotionally drained, but those feelings were mixed in confusingly with a sense of pleasure that he had never known before. Finally his cold, sweaty forehead encountered warmth. It was Granger's shoulder. She had pulled him down to nestle his head into her neck as she wrapped her arms around him.

It was an embrace.

It was so simple but so beautiful. Draco felt his mind spinning around madly as he tried to think of the last time someone had hugged him. He remembered hugging his mother, but he had been young and she had always felt so stiff and formal. There was nothing forced about this. Their bodies melded into each other as she held him. He dimly registered that he had started crying again, feeling the neckline of her pyjama shirt getting damp. Each time he took a gulping, desperate breath, he could smell her so close to him. All the pain and turmoil racing through his mind was stilled in a moment of perfect solace. Granger was the infamous princess of the Gryffindorks. She was the most moral person he knew. If she could understand him, and maybe even forgive him, then surely he could forgive himself.

Draco drifted out of his dazed state long enough to realise that she was stroking his hair again. There were no more words exchanged between them; there didn't need to be. He felt his eyelids drooping tiredly. He thought he probably shouldn't fall asleep on Granger in the middle of the bathroom, her shirt soaked from his tears. But the logical part of him wasn't very vocal at that moment.

 _I saved her…_

 **Thank you for reading – please review!**


	11. Amused

**Author's Note: I'm pleased that readers are enjoying the portrayal of Draco and how he feels for Hermione.**

 **I really want to show that his attitudes and beliefs have already changed slowly over many years of growing up, but at the same time he is stuck in a situation that he cannot escape, and he is just trying to find his own way to survive that suits him. Poor Draco.**

 **As always, JKR is** ** _Terrificus Totalus!_**

 **...**

For the second time that week, Draco woke alone. It took him a while to blink his eyes open. They were glued shut and he reluctantly reached up to rub his hands sleepily over them. With an embarrassed groan, he felt his slightly damp cheeks and remembered crying last night.

Draco's memories of the previous night were mixed up with a lot of different emotions. As he peered up at the cream coloured ceiling of the cottage bedroom, he took in a deep breath. A part of him was still unable to stop picturing that poor girl writhing on the floor after he cast his spell, blood pouring from her nose. She had instantly fallen unconscious from the sleep enchantment, but he could feel the backlash reverberating up his arm from his wand, as her body fought against the myriad spells placed on her. He shuddered, turning his head to the side to stare at the bed next to him.

He could see the indentation on the pillow where Granger's head must have rested until recently. Leaning in a little closer, he breathed in and could smell her on the sheets, which were still a bit warm. She had held him last night. Draco shook his head in disbelief as the more pleasant memory washed over him, cleansing him just a little of the nightmarish evening he had endured before that. He could remember pressing himself into her neck as she wrapped an arm around him, her fingers gently stroking his hair. He also remembered waking up dazedly in the middle of the night as Tilly carefully levitated them both over to the bed. Granger had twitched a bit in her sleep and wriggled on the bed once they had been placed down, but never woke up. He had blearily thanked Tilly before rolling over to rest his head on Granger's shoulder again, one arm draping heavily over her waist as he settled down into deep sleep again.

Draco sat up in bed, his breathing starting to quicken as the sensory memory of being wrapped around Granger in bed stung him. Her scent was so strong in here now he could practically taste her on the back of his tongue. He wondered stupidly if he could get drunk on her taste. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. She hadn't just allowed him to touch her, _she_ had initiated the contact. Last night he had, as the muggles would say, "spooned" her. He could vividly recall the feel of her curves against him, the soft weight of her breasts against his arm, and the sinfully smooth touch of skin he had felt on her waist when her pyjama shirt had ridden up.

 _Fuck…_ he swore to himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He was so confused, and upset, and painfully aroused, that his thoughts were in turmoil. Draco quickly walked over to the bathroom, locking himself in and turning on the shower in a quick blast of icy cold water. There was nothing he could do about the guilt he felt from last night; he suspected he would be carrying it with him to the grave. But he could get rid of the arousal. Well, not the actual feeling of _wanting_ Granger, because that seemed to burn inside him no matter where he was or what he was doing, and seemed to flare up into a fire when they were in the same room. But he could get rid of the evidence of that desire for now.

Draco moved under the freezing water with a gasp of distaste. He usually liked his showers so hot they scolded him. He shivered uncomfortably. It took a while standing there in pain before he felt the lower half of his body calm down. As soon as he had accomplished that, Draco jumped out of the shower to dry himself vigorously with the warmest, fluffiest towel he owned. Dressing quickly; in a green shirt today for a change, he shuffled out nervously into the living room. When he saw Granger there, he couldn't help the involuntary smile that toyed at his lips at the sight of her. She was wearing one of his t-shirts he had transfigured to fit her the other day, as well as her jeans, which Tilly had cleaned and pressed.

He had to admit grudgingly that he did get a primal thrill from seeing her wearing his shirt. It was a totally inappropriate caveman response, and it didn't exactly help support his cold shower habit, but there was no stopping the feeling.

"Malfoy-" Granger gasped, and Draco couldn't stop the small flinch when he noticed that she'd reverted back to using his last name. She had turned in surprise as she glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye from where she had been standing looking over titles on one of the many bookshelves.

 _Wait…standing?_

"You're on your feet," he exclaimed in surprise.

"So are you," she responded tartly, turning back to the books. She had a fairly large stack under one arm as she grabbed a couple more. Draco smiled wryly. So she was going to go back to how they had been before. Playful banter with a distrustful edge to it. Well he could play along with that if it's what she wanted.

"Just admit that you liked being carried around by me a little _too_ much, Granger."

She twisted her body round to glare at him, and it was then that he noticed she had a little accomplice helping her. Tilly was standing beside her, hidden partially by Granger's legs, and she was also carrying a couple of heavy tomes that were far too large for her tiny body.

"Don't be absurd," Granger retorted, as Tilly stared at him with round, worried eyes. She was terrible at hiding her feelings. It was written all over her face. He supposed it was only fair, considering she had had to levitate them to bed last night because they'd been huddled up crying in the bathroom together. He'd have been surprised if she _wasn't_ terrified for him.

"Is Master wanting any breakfast?"

He nodded thoughtfully, realising only just as she brought it up how famished he was. He hadn't exactly had an appetite last night after everything that went down. Not like his father and the others. They'd happily strolled away for a nice meal together afterwards. His skin crawled at the memory of their casual discussion of food. He tried to shake it away so he could cope normally with the hunger now gnawing at his stomach.

"Yeh, I guess I could have some toast, nothing fancy."

When Tilly went to put down the books, he stepped forward quickly.

"Don't worry, Tilly. It's just toast, I'll make it."

"But sir, Tilly is already making toast for Miss Hermninny, isn't she Miss?"

Granger was a little distracted, absorbed in the book in front of her as he had so often seen her in Hogwarts library.

"Huh?" she murmured absently, before she realised what the question had been, "OH! Yes. Tilly very kindly made me breakfast, but it's far too much for just me to eat by myself of course, because she likes to spoil me," Granger shot the elf a beautiful smile, and Draco watched in amusement as Tilly lit up. The tiny elf beamed from ear to ear, twisting one leg beneath her tutu bashfully. He wanted to laugh, seeing how the curly haired Gryffindor had Tilly wrapped around her little finger. He guessed that made two of them.

Then Granger looked up at him, and the smile lingering on her face made Draco's heart thump painfully in his chest. He thought it might stop for a second.

"You're welcome to share it with me," she said politely. Draco swallowed and nodded quickly.

"Sure, that's fine," he replied. Granger smiled again before placing the books down on a shelf nearby. Draco noticed the tray of food on the coffee table and moved to sit down. He started to pour the tea, keeping one eye on Granger. She hobbled stiffly over to the couch, her legs clearly still not working for her properly, and her eyes were scrunched up at the corners.

"Are you still experiencing any pain?" he asked, concerned, as she sank gingerly down onto the soft couch cushions with a sigh of relief.

"Not a lot of pain, no. My legs just won't co-operate with my brain."

Draco gave her a little smirk at the description.

"So that's why you're still researching?"

Granger grimaced.

"Partly. I'm also still looking into cursed daggers. My arm… well I'm not a really vain person, but this is one scar I would prefer not to have on me forever."

Draco grit his teeth and clenched his own fist, feeling the muscles in his forearm tighten where the dark mark was imprinted.

"I know what you mean," he said quietly. It took her a couple of seconds, but eventually she realised what he was referring to. Her eyes glanced down at the arm, covered by his long sleeve, and she pursed her lips sadly.

"Have you ever thought about removing it?" she asked nervously, picking up her tea and giving it a dainty sip. It was still scolding hot from whatever stasis charm Tilly had used.

"Of course I have," he took a big sip of the tea, smacking his lips pleasantly at the taste. It really had been ages since he'd had anything to eat or drink. He continued between sips, "I've heard that most muggles regret their tattoos eventually, but this one is a whole different level of regret." Granger giggled prettily at the comment and looked down.

"You know, muggles have this thing called Laser technology. They can use it to get rid of ink. It's expensive and painful, but it can be done."

Draco was impressed, but he didn't let it show on his face too much. He thought he was doing quite well with his coffee machine and stereo, but he didn't want to push it too far.

"I doubt it would be that easy. It's a magical tattoo, and it was made with _dark_ magic linking it to You-Know-Who's, so I'm guessing it's more than just a bit of ink."

"You're probably right," she admitted grudgingly, frowning down into her teacup as Draco leaned forwards casually to grab a piece of buttered toast from the pile in front of him. He really didn't want to talk about his dark mark with Granger, and from her expression he was guessing she didn't want to anymore either. Before he could change the subject, however, Granger looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Last night…" she paused and he swallowed the piece of toast in his mouth as if it were ash, "does that kind of thing happen often?"

Draco wiped his hands, which were suddenly sweaty, on his pants.

"Yes," he replied quietly. He thought he might as well be honest with her. She had shown last night that she could be trusted not to turn on him or hate him for admitting his weaknesses, "I don't usually get forced into it. That was a special treat from my…from _Lucius._ " He really didn't want to say the word father. The thought made him almost lose his appetite again, "But yes, the others do it quite regularly."

Granger swallowed her own piece of toast and squirmed a bit on the couch. He really didn't like the look of pity on her face, but he could tell the moment she set her lips in a determined pout and met his eye again. This time there was an unexpected glint of humour there, which made him curious.

"Well remind me not to get mad at my dad again next time he wants me to clean my room," she said with a completely serious expression.

Draco blinked at her a couple of times, surprised. Then he felt a laugh bubble up inside him, and he let it out in a disbelieving chuckle.

"Well Granger, you certainly pick your moments," he said, still laughing. Granger smiled at him, pleased with herself for earning this reaction.

"I'm not used to people laughing at my jokes," she said happily as she dug into her toast more.

Draco shook his head as he took a big bite as well. Of course those morons she called friends didn't appreciate her. He always knew they didn't deserve her. They sat in silence for a little while, munching on their breakfast as Tilly wandered in and out with the laundry, her big eyes constantly focused on Granger with a look of admiration. After a while Draco brushed his hands together to wipe off some crumbs and picked up his teacup again, working up the nerve to ask her a question.

"What is _your_ father like?" he asked eventually, his voice curious. Granger looked at him in surprise for a moment, and he swallowed a large mouthful of hot tea a bit too quickly, "I mean…you don't have to-"

"It's alright," she interrupted, "I don't mind you asking me. I just didn't expect it."

Draco nodded and gestured for her to continue. Before she began speaking she paused for a moment, and a small, innocent smile twitched at her lips as her expression became wistful.

"Well…my dad has always been my hero, as lame as that sounds. My mother and I are very close, but I'm really a daddy's girl. Spoilt rotten, as my mum says. He's very smart, but he's terribly kind-hearted and affectionate. I remember when I was about four or five he took me to the zoo. It was a hot day and it was very crowded, and he had recently got his cast removed from a broken arm – football injury, of course," she chuckled and Draco just nodded. He really had no idea what football was, even though he had heard of it before, "and he must have been tired and hot and sore, but he still carried me around on his shoulders for most of the day so I could see the animals. Sometimes we argue, of course, but he never raises his voice at me. The only time we ever fought properly was one year when I wanted to put a star on top of the Christmas tree instead of our usual angel. It seems so silly now. But it never lasted. Ten minutes later we were dancing to Bing Crosby with the lights twinkling behind us."

As Granger trailed off, Draco found himself completely speechless. He hadn't expected her to open up with such raw honesty and love for the man. He watched as her affectionate smile turned sad, and he could have sworn her eyes started to glisten with tears before she lowered her head and those damned curls hid her face from his sight.

All of Draco's resentment and confusion thundered back with an impotent rage like he had never experienced before. He desperately searched his mind for one moment, just one, when his parents had shown him even a glimpse of the emotion Granger had just revealed. He couldn't find one. Another piece of his old prejudices crumbled instantly around him as he looked at Granger with an ache of despair. Her muggle parents were supposed to be inferior, weren't they? He had accepted long ago that muggle-born witches and wizards were no less than him, but Granger painted a picture of her fully muggle parents that was so… _normal_. Or what he believed normal was supposed to be like. Normal for him had never been that. He had been given a hundred gifts for Christmas in his youth, each more extravagant than the last, and he remembered being quite happy playing with his new toys. But his father had barely touched him when he was a little child, except for a warning pat on the shoulder when he wasn't living up to his expectations. And Granger had just shown more happiness in two miniscule, seemingly insignificant little memories of her dad than he had ever felt in his entire life. He wanted to scream or curse or something. But what was the point? It wouldn't change anything. Draco had all the money and power in the world growing up, but it didn't hold a candle to Granger's simple _muggle_ upbringing.

"Malfoy?"

He heard her voice as if from a distance, and realised he had been staring at her without seeing her. She had an embarrassed, awkward look on her face, and was biting into her bottom lip in that adorable pout of concern.

"I'm sorry," she said in a rush, "That was so completely corny. I didn't mean to get carried away."

"No," Draco interrupted in a hoarse voice. He coughed a little to get rid of the burning in his throat that tasted a lot like jealousy and disappointment. "No, it wasn't corny, Granger. It was perfect."

She nodded, her curls bouncing a little as she stared at him in understanding.

"No family is perfect, you know," she said with a hesitant, compassionate smile. Draco snorted, feeling particularly self-pitying.

"Don't even think of comparing your family to mine, Granger. It's no contest. My mother's insane and my father is a murdering psychopath who volunteered his only son to serve a violent despot when he was sixteen."

Granger bit into that damn lip again, and this time he was afraid she had done it to stop herself from crying.

"I really am sorry, Draco."

Draco couldn't help but smile sadly at her. At least she had said his name again. Hearing her say it, even if it was brought on by pity, was almost worth this horrendous trip down memory lane for him.

"Don't be," he said with a shake of his head, forcing a wry smile back on his face, "and stop looking at me like I've got a terminal illness, alright?"

Granger chuckled at that, a mischievous smile forming on her face.

"Well, I have to say, Malfoy, this does shed a lot of light on why you were such a complete prat in school."

"Oh yeh? Well it also explains why _you_ were an uppity little bitch."

Granger gasped.

"Well _you_ were an arrogant bully!"

"Hey, maybe I was just trying to pull the stick from your ass!""

They were both grinning playfully at each other. He even noticed Tilly in the corner stifling giggles as she folded some linen.

"Don't make me slap you again!" she laughed, raising her hand a little bit as a threat.

Draco smirked sinfully, looking her up and down. He saw her swallow a little at the predatory gaze before he met her eyes again.

"Oh please do," he said suggestively.

He could practically see the goose bumps prickle over her skin in response to his words, and it gave him a thrill of desire. She managed to recover and roll her eyes at him as she huffed and crossed her arms.

"Gross, Malfoy."

He only winked at her in response, grabbing the last piece of toast off the plate and biting off the corner with a cheeky grin. Granger blushed and reached over quickly to snatch a couple of books from the pile she had made. With a thud and a wince of pain, she smacked him with one right in the belly as she handed it over violently, before she opened up her own text and buried her head in it.

"Ok, breakfast is over. Start researching," she said in her bossiest voice, which he still found unbelievably sexy. He did as she asked, but his mind kept replaying one inane thought…

 _Well I guess that cold shower was a waste._

...

 **Thanks for reading! Please Review.**


	12. Liberated

_**Liberated**_

 **Author's note: Thanks for your kind reviews; I'm so pleased you're enjoying this story. As always, JKR has split her soul into seven books and stored them in our hearts!**

"Can I ask you something, Malfoy?"

"Can I stop you?"

Granger huffed and sat down on the couch next to him. She had been getting ready for bed, and was currently combing through her wet hair with lazy fingers. It had been three days since his breakdown on the bathroom floor, and the storm cycle had yet to break. It had been raining with icy sleet steadily ever since. But the mood in the house was quite the opposite. They had both slipped back into a state of happy denial since then and not spoken of anything even remotely serious. Tilly kept bringing them up to date with reports from Malfoy manor, but it sounded like Voldemort was still off on whatever quest he had been obsessed with for the last few months, and everything was relatively quiet. The war had been centred on the ministry and the politics of it all, which for Draco had been a huge relief. It gave him more time to spend with Granger. Living together in his little cottage had been everything he'd hoped. They ate together, read together, laughed, argued, apologized and said goodnight with the promise of tomorrow. He knew it couldn't last, but while it did he was clinging on to every moment.

Granger was pursing her lips in a stubborn frown that he recognised. With more time to study her, he was becoming more aware of all her various facial minutiae that gave away her emotions.

"Ask the bloody question, Granger."

She thought for a moment more, her hair angled to the side with her wet strands dangling close to him as she untangled it.

"I'm sorry, but it's been on my mind for a couple of days now…"

Draco felt his mouth get drier at her nervous expression as she paused before reluctantly continuing,

"Well I'm doing a lot better. My legs and arms are doing what I want _most_ of the time now. And I don't tire as quickly."

"Okay…" he agreed hesitantly.

"And I guess I was just wondering if there's any chance we can… _go_ somewhere."

Draco furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Um…where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere! I'm just starting to go a little stir crazy and I want to go outside. I want to walk in the snow, and feel cold air on me. I know that it's important to stay inside your wards, but maybe we could just go for a really short walk or something," she had started to ramble a bit in anxiety, and Draco smiled fondly at her, relief soothing his pounding heart. At first he had thought she was talking about re-joining her friends – not that they had any clue where they were – but he knew that she was smart enough to realise she wasn't ready for that yet. She was almost healthy enough to apparate, but Draco admitted guiltily to himself that he wasn't exactly rushing to find her a replacement wand and fix her up so she could just leave him. He dreaded the idea of her disappearing to return to the moronic duo and their suicidal quest. With a start he realised she was still talking nervously, and he quickly held up a hand to stop her.

"Granger, stop babbling," she immediately halted her rant, biting into her bottom lip hopefully and looking up at him with those big milky eyes that never failed to win him over, "I think it's a great idea."

Granger looked at him for a split second of surprise, before she squealed in joy and bounced a little on the couch.

Draco laughed. He had never seen her so unrestrained like this before. She was a bundle of energy, and her smile was so big he could see the two little dimples form in her cheeks. He stared at her with his own half smile, which as usual came out looking more like a smirk. If she were going to react like this every time, he'd agree to anything.

He could remember seeing her smile a lot in school, but it had more often than not been to herself. He had frequently seen her smiling at a private joke of her own, or in response to something that flew over everyone else's heads. But outside her two closest friends she didn't often laugh or enjoy a joke. That was why a lot of the students had assumed she was a prude or a sourpuss. But after observing her for long enough, he had come to understand that she was actually neither. Granger was smart, _really_ smart, and that meant that she wasn't amused by the bawdy adolescent jokes of those around her. Draco had found himself mesmerised by her quiet humour from the other side of the library. He recognised the cheeky, secret smile she would get on her face when something she read really tickled her.

But on her face now was an impish delight he had never seen before. It was adorable.

"Are you sure? I don't want to threaten your hiding place here or anything, and I don't want to bother you when you have so much on your plate-"

Draco shook his head wryly and reached across to place his hand over the top of hers. He hadn't initiated much contact between them, and the bold move gave him a quiet thrill.

"Granger, shut up. You already convinced me. Are you trying to deter me now?"

Granger pressed her lips together with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Nope."

Draco realised he was still touching her with his hand, and hurriedly drew it back. Her smile faltered a little bit at the haste with which he pulled away. But it returned with full force as she rose to her feet excitedly, even though it seemed a bit forced at the edges. She seemed just as nervous about them touching as he had been.

"Thank you."

Draco smiled too.

"So what did you have in mind?"

"I don't know," she said with a thoughtful frown, moving to pin up her still damp hair which was now about as untangled as she was ever going to get it, "You know the area around here, what do you suggest?"

Draco thought about it for a little while as he mechanically returned some books to their rightful place on the shelves. It had to be something fun to help her snap out of the banality of being stuck in the cottage. But still be relatively safe and easy going on her injuries. Then he was struck by a clever idea.

"Well the real estate agent said they have a winter festival in the local village each year, and I read a bit about it in a newspaper while I was down there one weekend. It's supposed to be for showing off the area's winter flowers or something. But I think they also turn it into a whole market stall food fair…" Draco trailed off when he saw Granger bite her bottom lip. She looked unhappy. He immediately backtracked, with a nervous laugh, "Okay, so that's a terribly cliché idea. I'll think of something else-"

"No!" Granger interrupted with a short laugh, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you off. That sounds completely perfect."

"Are you sure? Because-"

"Malfoy! It's perfect. I can't wait."

Draco frowned at her.

"Then why did you just look like I killed a puppy?"

Granger let out a soft giggle.

"I just didn't expect it. Harry and Ron aren't exactly thoughtful when it comes to doing things _I_ want to do. Quidditch is not one of my interests. The festival honestly does sound perfect. But are you sure _you_ will enjoy it?"

Draco scoffed. He didn't overly like the comparison to her two idiot friends, but since he was coming out on top, then he supposed it didn't hurt. And they _were_ idiots. He couldn't care less what he did or where he went. Spending the day with her was what he craved. They could be attending a knitting club and it would still be quality time. He had a feeling that Granger could make any activity fun for him. She always found happiness in the simplest things, as she had shown through her memories of her father. He desperately wanted to be a part of one of those memories for her.

"Granger, stop worrying. I've felt just as imprisoned lately as you. It will be nice to just get out and do something without other people expecting or demanding things from us."

"Exactly," she said with a knowing look, her face serious now as she stared back at him with an intensity that shook him, "I forget sometimes how young we are."

Draco felt his palms sweat and he wiped them discreetly on his pants. He managed to give her a shaky smirk.

"Yes, well, don't hold your breath. I don't think you'll feel very _young_ at this festival we're going to. I think we'll probably feel about ninety."

Granger laughed again. He loved making her laugh.

"Well I do love jam and peppermint-" she said with a cheeky smile, before she started to back away towards the bedroom.

"I'll get Tilly to wake you up at eight," he said to her as she turned around to go to bed.

"Ok," she said with a parting smile, "I'm looking forward to it."

Draco shook his head as she closed the door to the bedroom softly to get changed into pyjamas. He fell back down onto the couch with a sigh. For some reason his heart was thrumming happily and he couldn't wipe the smile from his lips. The rational part of his mind knew that it was all just an escape from their self-imposed captivity, but he couldn't silence the other small part of him that felt like this was a date.

He was going on a date with Hermione Granger.

….

Apparently Draco was not the only one in the house who thought it was a date. He woke up early the next morning and stumbled into the kitchen, following the light chinking sound that he thought might have roused him. He peered around the counter and looked in disbelief at Tilly. She was rummaging around in the cupboards and muttering to herself. There was yarn running around the floor in a web across her feet; a hodgepodge mixture of black and forest green.

"Tilly, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Tilly jumped a little bit and spun her head around to look at him, even as she kept feeling around on a low shelf.

"Tilly is searching for a button, Master."

Draco frowned, leaning against the counter as he ran one hand through his sleep-ruffled hair.

"Okay…but why would you look in the kitchen cupboards?"

The little elf made a tutting sound and rolled her eyes.

"Because that is where Tilly keeps the buttons," her tone was slow and clear, as if speaking to a child. Draco smirked.

"Alright, smart ass. Why do you need buttons? It's seven in the morning."

"Miss Hermninny is needing a warm jacket for her outing with Master. So Tilly got up early to make one."

Draco stared at her in surprise at the admission. He knew she adored Granger but seeing her working so hard to please the Gryffindor brought a sad smile to his face.

"That's very sweet of you, Tilly. You like Miss Hermione a lot, don't you?"

Tilly nodded eagerly, and then made a noise of delight as she scooped out a big black button from inside a saucepan.

"She is very kind to Tilly, Sir. She is treating me as equal."

Draco nodded, knowing only too well the effect that Granger could have on people.

"Yeh, she's pretty special," he murmured almost to himself, then continued talking to the elf as he helped himself to a hot coffee from the espresso machine, "So why didn't you just transfigure a coat for her from my wardrobe? That is one of your many talents, after all."

Tilly shook her head brusquely as her fingers flew like electric wires over the growing material, using her own sensitive household magic to weave it together beautifully.

"No, that won't do. Today has to be perfect. Tilly doesn't want anything to go wrong."

Draco chuckled with an awkward smile as he filled up a small glass and began to sip at his coffee pensively. It was clear that Tilly was on the same page as him in her hopes for Granger, but she was a lot less subtle about it. Which was saying something, since he thought he'd been pretty damn obvious about his feelings. Draco considered for a moment that maybe he should speak to the elf about it, warn her not to get her hopes up. Because those hopes would probably be dashed when Granger either returned to her best friends never to see them again, or flat out rejected him and recoiled in disgust from his love. Not that he was planning to declare his heart to her anytime soon. He was a Slytherin, after all. Both he and Tilly would just have to take it one day at a time.

…..

The weather had obviously conspired to work alongside Draco's plans for the day, since the unpleasant winds had all but disappeared overnight. There was the hint of sun somewhere behind the rolling clouds above them, peeking through with the promise of fine weather later. And the snow was falling in dainty flakes that Draco watched fall and come to rest ever so gently in Granger's hair.

Her curls were cascading out from under a cute green and silver beanie that Tilly had also made for her, that had little silver plaits hanging down her cold-pinked cheeks. They were trekking slowly closer to the town that was only a few hundred metres away from Draco's cottage. Even from this distance they could hear the sound of a band playing soft festive music, and the chatter of a hundred or more people. Granger was fairly steady on her feet, although he could hear her panting heavily beside him. She let out a frustrated breath as the path curved upwards.

"I can't believe you let Tilly do this."

Draco smirked.

"As if I could stop her," he retorted, earning a reproachful glare from the curly haired witch beside him, "And besides," he added, "Don't you like your new coat? I thought it was a nice gift."

Granger tutted and crossed her arms closer around herself to ward off the chill, even though she was probably quite snug in the stunning coat she had been given that morning.

"Of course I like it. It's exquisite. I just can't help but be suspicious that you had something to do with the colour scheme…"

Draco looked her up and down with a mocking frown of contemplation. She was in full Slytherin colours, which was no doubt supposed to be some kind of meaningful hint from that damned elf. And what made matters worse was that he did in fact react strongly to seeing her dressed like this. She looked like his fantasies, if only it were a little more revealing. He _liked_ seeing her in these colours. It was the same sensation he had felt when she wore his t-shirt. A need to possess her and wrap his arms around her to show everyone that they belonged together. Instead of speaking any of these thoughts out loud, he merely smiled cheekily at her and lifted one hand to tug on a silver plait by her ear.

"Well…I think it's quite fetching,"

"Of course you do, that's what worries me."

Draco's smile only widened as he realised she was teasing him. Her face looked serious at first glance, but he noticed that twitch in her lip that said she was holding back a smile.

"Well by all means, take it off."

Granger snorted and slapped his arm with her hand. He loved bringing out her playful side.

"Maybe next time I should get Tilly to make you a red and gold shirt…" she muttered sulkily. Draco gasped.

"You wouldn't dare," he said in a completely serious tone that made her only laugh harder.

By the time they neared the little main street of the village, Granger was walking a lot slower, but her gait was still quite even and she didn't appear to be in any pain. He figured she was probably just weary; she hadn't been this physical in a long time. They finally arrived at a narrow winding street packed with people, stalls of flowers and food covered by pretty overhanging trellises encircled by climbing vines and fairy lights. He heard Granger make a little mewling sound of awe, and he gave her a mocking smile that she studiously ignored. Draco awkwardly dragged one hand through his hair. Looking around at the masses of people there he suddenly felt nervous. It was highly unlikely that any Death Eaters would pop up in a place like this that was so exceptionally _muggle,_ but if by some complete miracle they did, his hair was far too distinctive. Pausing for a moment, he quickly held one of the gloves that he'd removed and transfigured it wandlessly into a warm hat. As he pulled it over his head firmly, he caught Granger's eye. She nodded in understanding and reached up to straighten it on his head so that it covered as much of his hair as possible. He looked down at her with a smirk, loving the way her cheeks and nose were tinged pink by the cold, and how red her lips had turned. His own lips felt extremely dry and cracked from the frigid wind, but hers looked so moist. He wondered if he just leaned down the few inches between them and kissed her whether her lips would sooth his like a balm.

"Oh look – snow drops!" she cried in delight as she looked over his shoulder at the first row of planter boxes.

Draco watched her wander away with a rueful smile. He was letting himself get far too distracted. Following close behind her, they wandered through the rows of flowers, with Granger pointing out particular ones she liked. They strolled for a little while, and he noticed that he had been right the night before; the average age of patrons of this festival did seem to be around fifty. But the people were very pleasant and they received a lot of friendly smiles and greetings.

"You know, your cottage would look really lovely with some snap dragons in that small patch out the back near the lavender."

Draco smirked at her as she gazed lovingly on some flowers with dainty pink petals. They were very sweet. He leaned over and bumped her shoulder with his own.

"Well why don't you plant some there, then?" he suggested lightly.

"What?"

"It can be _your_ garden patch, if you like."

He saw Granger bite her lip and she looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. He could see her thinking at top speed as she stared at him, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He might have just put his foot in it. She was probably contemplating how soon she would want to leave him and his cottage behind. And from the look of consternation on her face she felt uneasy about him inviting her to do any gardening there. Was that too intimate? Did gardening carry some kind of hidden connotation for muggles?

Wanting to save her the pain of turning down his idea, Draco spun them both around to continue walking.

"I'm famished, Granger. You want to eat?"

He heard and felt her walking alongside him, but tried to concentrate his eyes on the path in front. Eventually he heard her take a breath to begin speaking again. When she did he noticed she had pushed away her uncertainty and was trying to sound light hearted once more.

"You know, Draco is latin for Dragon."

"Really Granger? I had no idea," he replied sarcastically, making her push him back with her shoulder.

"I'm just saying. Snap dragons would be fitting."

He snorted, but didn't reply. When he noticed a couple of cake stalls, Draco pointed her over and they leisurely approached the display. Granger bent over to look at all the dainty little pastries and cakes in the window, letting out little cooing sounds every now and then when she saw something she really liked.

"What would you like?" he asked politely after a while.

Granger straightened up and pursed her lips, turning to look at him worriedly.

"Um…it's fine. I can eat something back at the cottage."

He frowned.

"You're not hungry?"

"Well…no. No I had a lot of breakfast."

Her words were reassuring, but Draco noticed her eyes darting occasionally over to a few of the more dainty looking tarts covetously.

"What's wrong, Granger?"

"Nothing!"

Draco scoffed, leaning in closer so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Bull shit. Why don't you want something to eat? Are you worried I'll try to poison you? Because that would be so much easier to do at home."

He was staring at her through narrowed eyes, waiting for her to give him an honest answer. He was hoping his joke about poison would at least crack a smile from her, but she was still looking like her cat died.

"It's just…" she leaned in too, lowering her tone to a whisper, "I don't have any money. Everything got taken from me when they…" she stopped abruptly, but didn't need to finish. Draco looked at her in fond disbelief. She was at a quaint country fair with one of the richest heirs in wizarding England and she was stressing about having no money?

"Merlin's beard, Granger! I'll buy you a bloody treat."

Her eyes widened.

"But you'd need muggle currency."

Draco smirked, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and opening it to show her the rather extravagant wad of pound notes he was carrying.

"Oh…"

"Satisfied? Now pick a cake. And make it quick, because I've got a craving for a scone."

Granger smiled tentatively up at him.

"Really? You don't mind paying? I can pay you back when I get a chance."

Draco groaned.

"Seriously, Granger, do you not know how wealthy I am?"

She just rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to the window. She bit into her lip for a moment longer with childlike excitement before she made up her mind. Granger stepped over to say a friendly hello to the woman running the stall. She was a tiny old woman, drowning in layers of sky blue knit wear.

"Would you recommend the blackberry tart or the peppermint éclair? I can't seem to decide."

"Ah! Both wonderful choices," the lady croaked in a warm, kindly voice, "and two of my personal favourites. You'll have to go with your gut, dear."

Draco leaned against the counter with a smile.

"We'll take one scone and one blackberry tart, please, but we'd also like a peppermint éclair in a box to take home."

Granger's smile widened into a happy grin that warmed Draco right through. No wonder Tilly was obsessed with making Granger smile, it was the best feeling in the world.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't argue. It's rude," he said with a playful drawl.

The old lady gave them a knowing look as she handed over the two cakes on frilly napkins, as well as a little blue cardboard box with the éclair.

"You have a very devoted boyfriend, dear. He's a keeper."

Granger had just taken a small bite from the pastry crust on her tart when the woman said that, and she promptly started to cough and choke as she swallowed it suddenly. Her face went pink with a mortified blush as she spluttered to take in a wheezing breath.

"Oh…um…thanks…" she managed to stammer out, before hurriedly turning away and continuing down the street as she regained her ability to breathe. Draco smiled cheekily and followed, enjoying licking at the sweet raspberry jam on his scone.

"Well then-" he began, giving her a mischievous wink as he caught up to her, but to his dismay he saw she wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, she was looking extremely terrified, and wouldn't quite meet his eye. Draco swallowed. This wasn't the reaction he had been hoping for. Even if she'd laughed off the lady's comments, he would've been happy, knowing that the thought didn't freak her out. But she was concentrating on eating her pastry and looked like she wanted to sink through the ground and away from him. The easy camaraderie of earlier was gone.

"Look Granger, she was just some old biddy-"

"It's fine," she said with a shake of her head, and he saw the determination on her face that he hoped meant she was going to perk up again, "It was just a surreal moment for me, I suppose. I panicked."

Draco smiled shakily and tried bumping their shoulders very lightly together once more.

"Because we're mortal enemies?"

Granger finally raised her eyes to meet his, and he saw the moment she started to feel guilty for her reaction. In a split second, her expression turned from nervous to compassionate, and she gave him a tentative smile in return.

"I guess not anymore, huh?"

"Do you still consider me your enemy?" he asked seriously, with a sad smile. There were people wandering around them and brushing past through the narrow street, but the two of them stood there isolated from it all in their own little world. Granger stared at him curiously for a very long time. So long that he almost broke the silence again, but something inside him told him not to. Her eyes carried a weight of intensity that shook him to his core, and he took a tiny shuffling step closer to her. As he waited for her to ponder her answer to his question, he reached up and toyed with one of the silver and green plaits on her beanie. Draco felt emboldened when she shivered and blinked slowly, so he let his fingers drift from the hat to one of her heavy brown curls. He ran the back of his hand over Granger's silky hair, before letting his arm drop to his side. He saw her jaw twitch as she swallowed, releasing a breath she had clearly been holding onto.

"No. I don't," she finally said, the words rolling slowly off her tongue as if she was only just realising it herself.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, feeling that the timing was right to let his cheeky smirk return.

"You're can still be an arrogant prat, though" she replied a little louder, causing a couple of heads to turn their way.

Draco ignored her, taking a big jammy bite out of his scone and sneering at her in a mockery of his younger self. Hoping to get her mind back onto more playful thoughts again, he pointed enthusiastically to an area behind her.

"Oh look, roses!" he said eagerly, manoeuvring them over that way, and she laughed at his sudden change, letting herself be dragged away by him. As they approached the beautiful winter rose blooms, he felt his heart rate return to normal, not realising it had been racing throughout that conversation. He knew that it wouldn't be easy. Draco had been a complete bastard to her in their early years of school. He had degraded and insulted her so often that he wasn't surprised that she would struggle with this new turnabout. But apart from the occasional moments when she clearly had flashbacks to their earlier acquaintance in school, he thought she was adapting very well to their new relationship. It had taken him months to overcome his childhood hatred of her, and even longer watching her to realise just how much he admired her. He couldn't expect her to transform her view of him completely in just a few weeks.

Luckily it wasn't long before she seemed to have forgotten their little awkward moment. Of course he doubted Granger had actually forgotten, she was a walking encyclopaedia after all, but she had quickly put it behind her.

After another hour of chatting and casual banter as they wandered the craft stalls at the opposite end of the fair, Granger was starting to tire. They had eaten snacks at three more stalls, and were both feeling pretty self-indulgent.

"I should get you home," he said when he saw her yawn for the third time in as many minutes.

He was pleased to see that Granger looked upset at his suggestion.

"What about lunch?"

He smirked.

"You're not full yet, Granger?"

She blushed and looked around at the few quaint village restaurants.

"I suppose we should leave," she said reluctantly. Draco shook his head at her before spotting the most perfect little country pub behind them and gesturing to it with one brow raised suggestively.

"Alright, then. I've been craving some battered fish and chips anyway."

Granger laughed openly at him as she eagerly started to make her way towards the pub he had pointed to.

"Somehow I can't imagine that being served at your fancy pureblood parties."

Draco grinned cheekily.

"It's not. But Blaise and I spent a couple of weeks one summer down in Cornwall after fourth year to get away, and it's basically all I ate."

Granger paused outside the pub, looking dreamily up in the air.

"Just wait a moment while I try to picture that hilarious image. Stuck up Slytherins eating greasy food at a muggle pub."

"Very funny, Granger. Laugh it up."

"I will, thank you."

He gave her a gentle shove, before offering her his arm in a chivalrous gesture.

"Shall we?"

She bit her lip a little nervously, but was much more relaxed this time as she linked her arm around his elbow. He enjoyed the warmth of her body close to his, and led them both with a smug smile into the pub where a fire was crackling away and the booths were a cosy fit.

He had to hand it to these muggles, they knew how to create the perfect atmosphere for a date.

 _…._

 **Thanks for reading and following this story! Next chapter we'll pick up where we left off here, and see where things go on their 'date'. Please review.**


	13. Deepened

**Hello again. Here is the second half of the "date". It's interesting to develop the closeness of these two characters while still acknowledging and paying attention to their issues. As always, JKR has an Order of Merlin, First Class!**

Granger had convinced him to get something called a fisherman's basket from the menu at the pub. He had been swayed by her excitement, but also admitted to himself that it would be fun to share something with her. When it had arrived at their table, Draco's mouth watered looking at all the different fried and crumbed seafood served up on steaming hot chips.

They had both dug in with gusto, eating as though they had not already consumed a large amount of sweet delights at the various stalls outside. Granger had ordered a couple of glasses of soft drink as well, and Draco discovered he quite liked the taste. It was refreshing compared to the creamy butterbeer he would usually order at places like The Three Broomsticks, and it washed down the greasy fish nicely.

"Do you miss Hogwarts?" Draco asked when the conversation had turned to subjects at school they both took. Granger contemplated the question for a while, before shrugging and nibbling on the end of a chip.

"Of course I do, but not as much as I thought I would."

"Really?"

She sighed heavily.

"I do have this constant feeling of disappointment that I never finished. A part of me – the bookworm as you would no doubt say – is devastated that I didn't get to take my NEWTS and prove myself after all those years of study and hard work."

"That's hardly surprising. Even I would like to have got my Outstanding in Potions and Arithmancy. You might know everything, but that piece of paper makes it official."

"It's a validation," Granger agreed with a quick nod, before she continued, "but things have been different this year. I've had the chance to actually _use_ my magic purposefully and out of instinct, not study. I'm casting spells not because a teacher told me to, but because it's needed. It suddenly feels more real." She blushed lightly and looked down, tracing her finger over a darker patch of wood on the solid table, "But I guess that's because I'm muggleborn, so the use of magic doesn't always seem natural to me. "

"No, I get it. It starts to feel normal instead of rehearsed."

Granger raised her eyes to his again and smiled softly.

"Are you shocked?" she asked with a teasing glint in her eye.

"About what?"

"That Hermione Granger isn't pining away for her precious school?"

Draco chuckled and shook his head, crunching on a piece of succulent crumbed calamari.

"Hmmm…" he pretended to think for a moment while he swallowed before grinning at her, "A little, though not as surprised as I am to see you wearing Slytherin colours and eating at a muggle pub with Draco Malfoy."

Granger broke into a small fit of giggles. She had removed the beanie when they entered the warm pub, and her curls bounced gently around her shoulders as she shook.

"Good point," she conceded, "I guess none of us are the same anymore," she gave him a meaningful look and tilted her glass in his direction before she took a small sip.

"On the contrary, I've always been this good looking and charismatic," he said with a cheeky smile.

Granger rolled her eyes and gave a loud exaggerated groan.

"You're incorrigible."

They laughed for another moment as he used his knife to cut the last piece of battered fish in half to share. After a couple of bites, Granger had sobered enough to look a little regretful as she spoke again,

"It's a moot point anyway. It's not like they would let me back into that school now. Not with Snape there instead of…" she trailed off with a visible wince, and Draco swallowed his fish, the still solid piece a painful lump as it went down. She had obviously been about to mention Dumbledore, but had panicked when she remembered his involvement in the tragedy.

"I'm really-" he started with a frown before his voice faded as he realised that no words could erase the guilt or memory of his actions that night. He couldn't apologize to her, it would sound so meaningless coming from him just now when she was the one who brought it up, albeit accidently. So he just sat there and looked pained until Granger spoke again.

"Harry told us that you weren't going to do it. He said you lowered your wand."

Draco nodded glumly, the tip of his finger toying with the edge of his glass.

"No wonder Lucius thinks I'm a constant disappointment. I can't even do the evil stuff right, despite being groomed my whole life."

Granger looked at him intently as she leaned over the table closer.

"Do you consider yourself a failure because you _couldn't_ kill Dumbledore?"

Draco shrugged and nodded hesitantly.

"I couldn't kill him. And I couldn't help him. So I guess that just makes me a useless coward."

Granger shook her head as she reached over and touched his hand again. He couldn't deny the childish flutter he always felt when she sought to comfort him like this.

"But Malfoy… there is a strength you showed in knowing that it was wrong."

"Of course it was wrong! I couldn't murder the headmaster. He'd never been unkind to me or unfair. In fact he'd been incredibly lenient and generous considering some of my behaviour in earlier years."

"Exactly! Do you think your father would have made that distinction?"

Draco shook his head, meeting her eyes with a frown of confusion.

"No, of course not."

Granger smiled slowly, prettily.

"You might not be very good at the evil stuff, Draco," she said with meaningful passion stressed on each word, "but you're alright at the good stuff."

"You'd say that about anyone, bleeding heart Gryffindor."

He saw her laugh sadly as she removed her hand from his, which soon turned cold without her touch.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm not right."

Draco smirked and leaned back in the booth.

"You're always right."

"Then you should listen to me."

He nodded and lifted his glass to drain the rest of his drink. He lowered the glass with a sigh and a shy smile..

"Does this mean that you've forgiven me for how I treated you in school? You admitted yourself that we're no longer mortal enemies."

Granger gave a hesitant smile in return and went back to tracing the table's wooden pattern.

"Of course I've forgiven you. You saved my life, Draco. That erases any of the petty things that were said and done when you were just a child, even if I struggle with the memories sometimes."

He swallowed happily and tried not to let his delight show too much on his face. She gave her forgiveness so freely that it helped lift a weight off his shoulders he'd carried with him these last couple of years. Ever since he'd started falling in love with Granger, he'd always felt a gnawing guilt in his heart that he would never wash away that hatred and bigotry from when he was younger. He had always believed pessimistically that she would never see past his earlier vindictiveness. But he supposed that such thoughts hadn't done her justice. She was even more compassionate than he had allowed himself to hope.

"I like it when you say it," he said automatically, his brain not catching up quick enough to filter what came out of his mouth.

"Say what?"

He smiled sheepishly, blushing a little bit.

"My name."

Granger's lip twitched and she looked him up and down once before she seemed to come to a decision in some internal debate going on.

"Ok, but I can't make any promises. The name Malfoy is too familiar that I might not always remember to change it."

Draco nodded in understanding. He wasn't sure he had the balls to use her first name, even in his own head. It opened a door to feelings that continued to taunt him every second he was around her.

"The name Malfoy to me will always be a reminder of my father. It doesn't feel right for you to use it, when he's hurt you."

Granger shot him a quick look of anguish, but he wasn't sure if it was directed at him or herself.

"Well in that case I will try very hard to change my habits, Draco."

He shivered again. Would he ever get used to it? Feeling that it was time to move on, he rose and donned his coat and hat once more, and saw Granger follow his lead. She tugged on her beanie, but Draco beat her to the coat, scooping it up and offering it to her open. Granger gave him another shaky smile and turned around, slipping her arms into the sleeves as he pulled it up and secured it on her shoulders. Then, feeling a daring rush of adrenalin, he took hold of the hair that had become caught behind the collar, and gently pulled it out to rest between her shoulder blades. As he did, the tips of his fingers just grazed the soft skin of her nape. He was watching her very closely, and could see the exact moment when the goose bumps prickled over her skin.

"Thank you," she stammered, before they made their way out the door and back into the cold. With a surprised glance at the sky, Draco realised that while they were having lunch, some dark clouds had begun to gather above. There was a lot of scurrying movement as the people of the village packed up the stalls and went about finishing up their festival. He saw Granger look up at the sky and turn towards him with a grimace.

"We'd better hurry," she said and he nodded in agreement.

They started to stride towards home, saying friendly goodbyes to people who recognised them from earlier in the day.

The two of them walked at a brisk pace towards the cottage. The closer they got, the greyer the sky became, and by the time they were within a hundred metres, they were being frozen by some very light icy drizzle. But they weren't making good progress, because the closer they got the slower Granger walked. She was a little unsteady, and Draco made sure he was walking fairly close to her to keep an eye on her gait. He cursed himself for keeping her out for too long in the cold. They should have left sooner. She must be exhausted. Her body simply wasn't ready to deal with this kind of physical strain. He had been hurt recently himself, but not with the kind of dark magic that she had been subjected to; the kind that drained you over a long time. He was surprised frankly that she had done so well throughout the morning before lunch. She must have been so excited to get out of the house that she was running on adrenalin.

"Argh!"

Draco paused and turned to look at Granger as she stopped suddenly and grasped her arm.

"What is it? Are you ok?"

She was rubbing at the forearm where Bellatrix had carved that horrible word into her. He frowned as he saw how hard she was scraping at it with her fingers. She would rub it raw and open it up if she wasn't careful.

"Hey," he started trying to get her attention as he stepped closer to her, "take it easy, Granger."

She hissed and ignored him, cradling it to her protectively as she scratched at it.

"It hurts so much!"

Draco stared at her in dread. He shuffled closer again until he was almost right up against her, and took hold of her wrist.

"You're going to make it worse."

"Urrgh… it's cramping and itchy. I think the cold weather is making it worse."

Draco kept his hold firm on her wrist like a vice, not letting her pull it back. Her skin was hot and sweaty under his fingers despite the freezing temperatures.

"You're burning up," he murmured with a frown.

"Please let go," she moaned, trying to wriggle her arm away from him.

"No bloody way, Granger. Let's just hurry up and get you home."

Still holding onto her, he looped his other arm around her waist and they started the quick stumble up the road towards the cottage that was now materialising into their view out of the fog.

When he felt the tickle of magic as they passed through the wards, he became aware of Granger sagging a little bit more into him, exhausted and in agony.

"Tilly!" he called urgently.

The little elf popped outside next to him. Her eyes were round with horror as she looked at them.

"Miss Hermninny?"

Granger tried once more desperately to pull her arm from his grasp with a whimper. But Draco used his grasp on her wrist to pull her closer and hold her against his body.

"Listen to me, Granger. If I let you scratch it or rub it, you're going to hurt yourself. So stop squirming and do as I say."

Granger gave a little shriek of frustration but allowed him to pull her into the house, supporting most of her weight as Tilly wandered along behind them.

"Did Masters and Misses date go badly?"

Draco kicked the door shut with a very loud bang, wincing at Tilly's words. He heard Granger give a little gasp right next to his ear where she was leaning against him.

"Wait…wha-"

"Can we get a heat pack Tilly? And some strengthening potion?"

Tilly nodded quickly and vanished, while he managed to get Granger all the way over to the couch. She sank down onto it, and promptly started to press her arm against her side, trying to cause friction against the woolly fabric. A loud crash of thunder made her jump a little, and gave Draco a chance to prop himself next to her and grab hold of her arm once more without her protesting. He sat there calmly holding onto her arm as she squirmed into the couch, her teeth biting so furiously into her bottom lip he was surprised she hadn't drawn blood.

"How long have you been in pain?" he asked quietly, trying not to sound angry with her.

"I'm not sure, exactly. It happened so gradually. It started to tingle when we arrived in the village, and it was kind of numb for a while, but it didn't really start to hurt until lunch."

Draco sighed and trapped her eyes in an accusing stare.

"And you didn't think to mention it?"

She shook her head sadly.

"I was having a nice time," she said with a sulky pout, and Draco felt a lot of his anger float away with her simple little admission. He was pleased she had enjoyed herself. It had easily been the best day out he'd had in a long time. Before he could respond, Tilly had returned, looking dolefully up at them as she handed over the heat compress and a vial of potion. He didn't have to wonder why she was upset, but was surprised when she piped up anyway.

"Did Miss Hermninny's arm get sore because of Tilly's jacket?"

Granger looked down at the elf with wide, sympathetic eyes.

"No! Of course not, Tilly. I'm just recovering still. Your jacket was beautiful and so so warm! And we had a really lovely day," she reassured the little elf, smiling when Tilly grinned from ear to ear.

Draco hurriedly applied the heat to her sore forearm, before uncorking the vial of potion and offering it to her. She downed the potion quickly in one gulp. Granger then curled her legs up onto the couch underneath her and leaned her head on the back of the couch with heavy lids.

"Just wait a few moments for the strengthening potion to kick in. And hopefully warming up your arm will relieve the pain if it was reacting to the cold."

Granger nodded and watched him from underneath her slowly blinking lashes as he placed the empty vial to one side. Draco returned her gaze evenly for a while, looking for any signs that she was feeling better or worse. The room was cast in darkness with this new storm circling around the cottage. Without breaking eye contact from Granger, he spoke to Tilly who was fussing around to one side.

"Would you light a fire please, Tilly? We could use the extra warmth"

'Yes Master," she squeaked and he heard her get to work, quickly becoming involved in her task.

"So…" Granger murmured quietly, her voice casual but her eyes rather wary, "Tilly thinks that we, um…"

Draco nodded, looking down sheepishly.

"I think she was confused," he tried to lie with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"Right. So I suppose she was trying to play match maker with the coat?"

Draco chuckled deeply, leaning closer so the elf wouldn't overhear them.

"I think _clothes_ mean a lot more to Tilly than they do to us."

Granger nodded with a wry smile.

"I had a feeling when I saw the excessive amounts of green and silver."

Draco smirked as well, before glancing at Tilly who was still busy building up the logs and kindling.

"She didn't mean any harm by it," he said, hoping Granger wouldn't be upset by the little elf's enthusiasm.

"It's fine. I can't exactly blame her for getting the wrong idea. Pretty much everyone we ran into today thought we were a couple."

Her eyes sparkled with humour, and she waved a hand dismissively as she spoke. Draco winced a bit when he saw the carefree way she brushed it aside, as if the idea didn't mean anything. As if it was ludicrous to even consider taking it seriously. He would have been happier even if she'd been unnerved or distressed, because it would at least mean that she acknowledged it as a possibility. But her reaction seemed too apathetic. Either she didn't care enough to contemplate him in a romantic way at all, or she was a better actress than he gave her credit for. Grange must have seen him wincing for that split second, because she frowned at him a little sadly.

"I'm sorry…"

"About what?" he tried to shake it off.

"I'm sorry you're uncomfortable with people thinking that about us."

Draco looked at her in surprise. He almost laughed out loud. She thought _he_ was the one bothered by them being seen as a couple. When it was the exact opposite.

"It's not a problem," he said with a twist of his lips into a playful smirk.

When silence descended between them, he became uneasy about the focused attention she was giving him. She was looking at him as if trying to work out a complex puzzle. After a few moments, Draco decided to change the topic.

"How are you feeling now?"

She thought for a second, her face scrunched up adorably.

"A little better. My legs are really stiff."

Draco nodded.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

Granger spluttered a bit and stared at him in shock.

"Are you serious?"

Draco chuckled at the expression on her face. At the same time Tilly managed to complete her perfect firewood pyramid she had been constructing, and with a flick of her bony wrist it lit on fire. They both hummed a little in pleasure as the heat flared up next to them, toasting them right through to their bones. Draco turned back to the curly haired witch with a playful smirk.

"Would I lie to you?" he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Most definitely," she responded instantly, making him laugh.

"Well I'm not _this_ time. When I got my coffee machine, I bought one of those muggle telethings. A man at the store told me I couldn't live without one."

Granger continued to stare at him in disbelief.

"You really don't do things in halves, do you?" he shook his head in amusement, "Well do you have any DVDs?"

"What?"

"Um…they're thin discs that you put in and they play the movie."

"Oh. I think so. He gave me a couple of little cases."

Seeing that Granger was clearly interested in this idea, he jumped to his feet and approached the opposite wall. Reaching round the back of a panel, Draco released the switch that made the wall open to reveal the flat telemovie thing. He heard Granger gasp in amazement and he grabbed the few cases from the low cupboard and brought them back to the couch.

"Have you ever used this?" she asked with awe, staring at the screen.

"No," he said with a shrug, "I have no idea how it works. Or time to play with it. What's it all about then? Why do muggles do it?"

"Well they make these films that tell stories. It's like reading a book but you see it. They can be really amazing, funny or touching, and there's thousands of different films to watch."

"Sounds interesting."

Granger smiled and gave him a small shove with her free arm that wasn't held under the heat compress.

"You're unbelievable. What movies do you have?"

He handed the cases over with a dramatic flourish.

"I didn't want to choose randomly, so the man at the store gave me his three favourite ones."

Granger looked down at the films before picking one.

"It has to be this one! My dad loves this."

Draco looked down at the cover. _The Godfather._ He shrugged and nodded.

"Sure. You'd know best."

"It's an oldie but a goodie! And besides, I think you'll find some of the themes quite…um…relevant."

He moved back over to the machine, and Granger called out instructions for him to put the round shiny thing somewhere. They laughed a bit as he stumbled his way around the system, and tried to follow her enthusiastic pointing. Eventually the television, as she called it, made a humming noise and she gave a squeal of delight.

He handed her the black stick and she managed to turn the thing on rather quickly. Tilly gave them a smile as they settled down on the couch together.

"Here you go," she squeaked, handing them a thick quilt, "Tilly will go make Master and Miss hot chocolates now!"

Granger gave another coo of excitement, and settled deeper into the couch. She wriggled a little closer to him and threw the quilt over both of them.

Draco stared at her in surprise. So she wanted to snuggle up on the couch together? With the thick blanket, crackling fire and hot chocolate, it was shaping up to be incredibly cosy.

"This is surreal," he murmured, and she gave him another little playful push.

"Oh hush. The movie's starting."

Draco smiled to himself as the screen began to move with exciting colours and images like he had seen at the store when he bought it. His heart was still beating a little quickly since he could feel the warmth of Granger's body sitting close next to him. She still had the heat pack on her arm, but didn't seem as anxious about the pain as she had been before, which hopefully meant it had faded. Draco felt his head turn slightly to the side so that he could watch her watching the film. There were only words on the screen, names of people, but she looked enraptured. Her cheeks were still a little pink from the sudden move from cold to hot, and her curls were a little wilder than normal from the wind. She must have noticed him staring, because she turned her head to meet his gaze and frowned at him.

"I know you're not used to muggle things, but you're supposed to be _looking_ at the screen."

Draco nodded with a slow smile and _eventually_ turned to watch the movie.

….

About an hour into the film, Draco was completely absorbed in the story of the corrupt crime family. Granger hadn't been kidding when she said he'd understand the themes. He was so engaged in the film that it took him a moment to notice that Granger had slipped minutely closer to him. She was obviously weary. His heart skipped about fifty beats when he felt her head tilt to one side and land lightly on his shoulder. When he didn't move or object, she understood his silent permission and snuggled deeper into him.

It was official. They were cuddling.

Draco Malfoy of five years ago would have wanted to slap him – Just like Granger had – but now he was having an entirely different reaction. This close he could smell the shampoo Tilly had bought for her to use. And beneath that was her own sweet feminine scent. Apples and cinnamon…

Draco blinked in surprise when he realised that his cheeks were sore from smiling. His jaw ached with the sensation of the permanent grin plastered there. Concentrating on the film again, he let his body relax and sink into hers as well, thanking Merlin that he had successfully survived his first date with Hermione Granger.

…..

 **Thank you for all your kind reviews so far. Please keep sharing your thoughts because it helps me develop my ideas.**


	14. Clashed

**Clashed**

 **Author's Note: Once again, thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts. But it's time for the world outside to play its hand. Brace yourself. As always, JKR is a tri-wizard champion!**

 **...**

Draco was humming tunelessly to himself as he pushed the bacon around on the stove. He loved the crackling sound of the fat bouncing around the scolding pan. If you had asked him to cook a meal five years ago, he would have asked what was the point when he had house elves to do it for him. But when he had first lived in the cottage, and Tilly was busy back at the manor often, he would browse through some old cookbooks he found in the village when he felt like taking his mind off things. Soon he had realised how fulfilling it was to eat food you had made with your bare hands. Everything tasted sweeter, richer, more flavoursome when you had cooked it yourself.

Granger was still in the shower. He could hear the pattering of the water against the tiles muffled from inside the bedroom. He smiled cheekily to himself when he thought of her. This morning they had woken up on the couch together, his front pressed against her back. He vaguely remembered falling asleep in the last half of the film, and they had both shifted awkwardly until they were lying along the couch with his arm draped over her curvy waist. He had slept deeply, and when he had woken his nose had been pressed into Granger's silky soft curls, inhaling the heady scent of her hair.

It had been both wonderful and problematic. He had certainly cherished the heat of another body against his; he was tired of waking up cold and alone from his nightmares. But the intimacy of the position had inevitably had an effect on his body. Draco's desire for the curly haired witch was intense under normal circumstances, but this was so much more; it had been bliss and agony all wrapped up in one almost overwhelming moment. One of the first sensations Draco had become aware of when he blinked his eyes open blearily that morning had been the throbbing between his thighs. His cock had twitched and gone stiff in a matter of seconds at the feel of Granger's soft, rounded bottom against him. Draco had simply not been able to stop himself from moving his hips ever so softly to grind against her. But then he had felt a wave of anxiety that she would wake up and become alarmed, so he had stopped immediately and tried to separate their bodies without disturbing her.

Snapping out of the pleasant memory, he sighed and scooped the bacon out to rest on the counter while he scrambled some eggs to fry up next.

Draco knew he was being a coward. That was his biggest flaw. He ran away from danger, just like he was running away from taking a risk with Granger. All the signs told him that she was warming up to him, and on the few precious times they had touched he knew she felt _something_. At the muggle pub he had seen the goose bumps trailing up the nape of her neck from where his fingertips stroked her skin. And last night watching the film she had certainly not been repulsed or scared to touch him. There had been a moment when she had looked up at him during the film, her head tilting up from its resting spot on his shoulder to make a quip about the story. Her dark brown eyes had looked endless in the glow of the firelight, and he had felt his breath catch. But her reaction had thrilled him. He had seen the exact millisecond when her gaze had dropped from his own steely eyes down to his lips. It was just a brief flicker, but Draco had no doubt that she had stared at his bottom lip with a fleeting glance of longing.

So maybe it was time for him to take the plunge. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do exactly. This was entirely outside his experience. Normally he didn't have to work very hard to get a girl's attention. A smirk, maybe a little wink and they were usually primed and ready to ask _him_ out. But Granger was not most girls. She was smart, and not easily fooled by cheap tricks. Not to mention they had a bad history. Draco suspected it would take a lot more than a few second-rate compliments to seduce her. He felt like they were finally now in a place where he could call her a friend. And he had never really had a female friend before. Pansy didn't exactly count; she was more like a groupie than a friend. She only wanted to marry the most powerful pureblood wizard she could lay her scheming hands on. So he was definitely in unmapped territory here with Granger.

Draco heard the shower turn off; the squeaking taps gave it away, and he quickly poured the egg mixture into the hot frying pan to start cooking. By the time Granger was done towel drying her hair and getting dressed he was ready to serve up breakfast, but no closer to figuring out how to approach his new resolution. Tilly wasn't around this morning to help as she was caught up with cleaning at the mansion. He thought it was likely she was cleaning up the mess after another round of the dark lord's violent whims.

When Granger strolled into the kitchen, she was looking refreshed, her hair still damp but starting to dry in soft ringlets around her face. Draco gave her his most charming half smile as he scooped the eggs and bacon onto two plates. She smiled back tentatively, and slid into one of the bar stools at the counter.

"Good morning," he said smoothly, sitting down next to her and tucking into his morning meal.

"Morning," she replied vaguely as she looked curiously at the plate in front of her, "This is impressive. And surprising. Did Tilly teach you how to cook?"

"No I taught myself from some cookbooks I acquired when I bought the place."

Granger sniffed her fork before she took the first tentative bite.

"Well it's edible…"

"Gee thanks," he replied sarcastically, but she just smiled at him teasingly.

"Actually it's delicious, but you don't really need your ego boosted."

"Point taken."

They ate in silence for a few moments, Draco watching her closely for any signs. Obviously she wasn't going to flutter her eyelashes at him over breakfast or anything, but he still wanted to keep a close eye on her to note her behaviour. She might have a tell.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked.

Granger didn't quite meet his eye when she answered after a long pause.

"A lot better. Very well in fact."

Maybe it was because he was watching her so closely, but Draco could have sworn that she looked disappointed.

"Okay," he replied slowly as he munched on some bacon, "Well that's good right?"

Granger lifted her eyes to his and smiled, but he knew her well enough now to know for sure that it was fake smile. It didn't quite meet her soft brown eyes, which usually lit up when she smiled genuinely. She nodded a little too quickly, before returning her gaze studiously to her plate.

"So I guess now we just keep looking for an answer to the scarring on your arm," he pressed.

"I suppose."

Draco frowned. He grabbed his coffee mug and took a big scalding sip that burned its way across his tongue and down his throat, but he didn't really pay attention to the pain.

"Spit it out, Granger," he said directly, catching her by surprise and forcing her to meet his eyes as she swallowed a mouthful of scrambled egg.

"What?"

"You know what. You're upset. Was it something I said or did?"

Granger shook her head quickly, and this time her eyes were much wider and more revealing. She put her fork down to one side and stared at him intently.

"No of course not. You've been wonderful."

"Then why do you look like Christmas has been cancelled?"

"I'm _not_ upset."

"Bullshit."

Granger glared at him for a few seconds, but he didn't back down. Eventually she sighed and her shoulders slumped a bit.

"Alright. Fine," she reached her hand into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a folded up piece of parchment that looked like it was from The Daily Prophet, "While I was in the bedroom an owl delivered the paper and I saw this."

She handed him the paper, and he looked down to see a picture of a burning house with bold words emblazoned across the top.

 ** _MUDBLOOD COMMITTS GRAPHIC SUICIDE: The Epidemic of Criminals Evading the Law Continues to Trouble Registration Officials._**

Draco wasn't stupid, he knew the Prophet was under the control of the ministry and that consequently it was all probably a load of codswallop. But that still didn't explain the look of anguish on Granger's face.

"Yeh, it's tragic…" he said uncertainly, causing Granger to tut and lean over to unfold the parchment, spreading it out to rid it of creases as she pointed to the main body of the article.

"It definitely wasn't a suicide. He was murdered. Ted… I didn't really know him, but-"

Draco looked closer at the article, and he saw the name _Ted Tonks_ often enough to know that this was the muggleborn who had supposedly killed himself. Which meant he had more likely been hunted down, tortured and murdered by Death Eaters.

Death Eaters like him.

The name sounded familiar, and he realised that it was actually the husband of his estranged Aunt Andromeda, the father of his cousin Nymphadora. He squirmed a bit in his seat, wondering if his mother knew about this. For all her pureblood nonsense she had always spoken kindly to him of her sister. She had of course shown contempt in front of others in public, but in the privacy of their home she was quick to snap at Lucius for denigrating her sister. Draco shook his head as he wondered if his mother would even be capable of acknowledging something like this anymore. Maybe a year or two ago, but not now that she was a shell of her former self.

Draco realised that Granger was looking at him with concern, and he quickly shook himself out of his thoughts to concentrate on her again.

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, "I wish there was something I could have done." But Granger just shook her head slowly and gazed down at the article with a sad frown.

"Like I said, I didn't know him. I'm friends with Tonks but… That's not really why I'm upset."

He pursed his lips a little and shuffled closer to her in his seat.

"Well what is it?"

Granger wasn't looking at him again. She was fiddling with her fork and avoiding eye contact as she spoke in a croaky whisper.

"I feel guilty that I'm not out there with Harry and Ron. I'm almost fully healed now except for my arm. I just wish I knew a way to find them. They need me."

Draco swallowed, but his mouth was so dry the sensation felt like something was lodged in his throat. So here he was thinking that he had just worked up the courage to seduce her, and she was thinking about leaving. It left a slightly nauseous feeling in his gut. Draco knew his ears were hot, pounding with blood even as his face drained of all colour and he guessed he had turned white as a sheet.

"But…you…you're not… we still need to work on your arm."

Granger nodded slowly.

"I know, but isn't it a bit selfish or vain of me to worry about what my arm looks like? Harry could be facing life or death situations and I'm well enough to help him now."

Draco stared at her in disbelief.

"You would keep risking your life for them after what they did?"

Granger did raise her head then, her curls falling back to reveal her expression. She was clearly confused by his comment.

"What do you mean?"

Draco sighed and pushed his fingers roughly through his hair.

"They just left you there when they knew you were being tortured. I kept waiting for something to happen, someone to come to your rescue, but when I heard they had escaped without you…"

Granger waved a hand dismissively.

"You said yourself that Dobby couldn't go into the main part of the house, so I'm glad they got out while they could. It's not like they could help me."

He grit his teeth and looked at her in frustration. Draco normally adored her compassionate nature, but it wasn't like her to be so naïve.

"You think that Dobby couldn't have helped them break down the cellar door? Or that they couldn't use him to overpower Rowle when he went down to check on them? Granger, they didn't even _try_ to rescue you. They just saved their own skins."

She was frowning darkly at him as her eyes searched his.

"Is that true? Do you honestly think they could have gotten upstairs?"

"Of course. If it were me, I wouldn't have left until I'd tried everything in my power to get to you."

Granger shook her head dolefully and gazed at him with wide, sorrow filled eyes.

"Maybe they didn't realise that Dobby couldn't come back for me," she said hesitantly. Draco scoffed.

"Well Dobby knew. He was always a nosy little prick and he knew the wards inside out so he could always manipulate them to boss the other elves around. And even if the moronic duo didn't realise that, then surely they should have made sure, or asked him before they just disapparated away."

Granger let out a deep breath she had been holding, her brows drawing together in that little crease in the middle of her forehead.

"You don't understand, Draco. Compared to Harry, I don't really matter in this war. _He's_ the one who needs to survive to face You-Know-Who. He's the one that matters. So how can I resent them for getting out when the opportunity presented itself?"

Draco spluttered.

"So that's it then? Your life doesn't matter compared to the precious Chosen One? You're just going to throw it away for Harry fucking Potter, is that it?"

"If I have to."

Draco slammed his fist down on the counter, making the cutlery rattle a bit on the granite top.

"No."

"What do you mean no?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm not letting you leave here."

Her sad frown turned into a familiar pursing of the lips that told him she was getting cross. He knew he was being irrational and possessive, but the thought of her walking out that door made him hurt so bloody much inside. She would go fight with her idiotic friends, and she would probably die. Draco wasn't sure he was capable of dealing with that. It would probably destroy him. And to sacrifice it all for Potter would just sting too much. His mind produced a brief flash of Granger's dead body, throwing it at him as a taunt of what would happen. In his imagination she was so white, her curls hanging in sticky pools of blood as Potter cradled her to him. Just another victim who died protecting him. Draco felt his anger and terror swell up in response to the nightmarish thought.

"I'll lock you in the bloody house if I have to," he continued through bared teeth, and she matched his anger with her own.

"Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm absolutely serious. You can bloody well stay here. I'll fix the wards so that you can't get out."

"You can't do that!" she spluttered in outrage.

"Actually I can. It's for your own good."

"I'm not some pet you can just keep here, Draco. I'm not a tool you can use to make yourself feel better about being a Death Eater."

Draco froze at her words. He was trying to absorb her meaning while struggling to accept that she could actually think that. It seemed so absurd.

"Is that what you think?" he croaked in disbelief, his stomach plummeting at her accusation.

"Oh come on, Draco, you hated me in school. And now suddenly you're treating me like…"

"Like what?" he asked challengingly.

"Differently," she said after a long pause, "You can hardly blame me for thinking that your motives might be self-serving."

"You know I've changed, you admitted it yourself," he yelled, appalled at her line of thinking. Granger nodded and tangled her fingers up in her curls.

"I know I did. But I'm confused."

Draco laughed coldly.

"So you're just going to leave? That's your big solution?"

Granger released her hair and stared at him. Her curls were a mess from the briefly tight hold.

"I wouldn't be leaving _you_. It's not like that. I have responsibilities…"

"But you still think I'm keeping you as a…uh…pet I think was your word."

Granger sighed heavily.

"Well what am I supposed to think?"

"That maybe I care about you! That I don't want to see you throw your life away for that complete prick!"

"Harry is not a prick!"

Draco snorted.

"Yes, he is. He's an arrogant, self-absorbed wanker who takes advantage of his friends. Of _you._ "

"You don't even know him."

"Well explain it to me then. What's so bloody amazing about Potter that everyone who knows him seems to become suicidal?"

"I love Harry like a brother and I would die for him," she repeated in a low, cold voice that rang through him with its flat tone, "but that's not the only reason why I'm fighting in this war. I'm a mudblood, Draco!" he winced at her use of the word, as it sent a crawling sensation up his spine, "If You-Know-Who wins then I'm dead, or worse."

"You think I don't know that? I'm the one who saved you from Bellatrix, aren't I? I'm the one trying to stop you from getting yourself killed now!"

"It's not your job to protect me."

"Well that's too bad, because I'm going to anyway."

"You barely know me," she said with quiet emphasis, cutting through his anger and making him cold with humiliation at the thought that she didn't even _suspect_ his feelings for her.

"So what… I don't get a say?"

"No, you don't" she said, as if it were obvious, which to him it really wasn't, "this is _my_ choice."

Draco stared at her, his heart pounding.

"Are all Gryffindors so bloody reckless?"

Granger glared right back, her eyes still crackling softly with anger.

"At least I am willing to die fighting for what I believe is right. Can you say the same?"

"What?"

"You sit there accusing me of throwing my life away, but aren't you doing the same? You're just as likely to be killed as I am right now, maybe even more so. But the difference is you don't even believe in what you're doing. At least I can face up to the fear knowing that I'm doing what's right."

Draco was silent, absorbing her words. He hated that she was spot on. It was something that kept him awake at nights. He dreaded the thought that he would become just another body, and the rest of the world would remember him only as that spoiled brat who followed in his father's footsteps and became a Death Eater. He had spent many days and weeks thinking desperately of a way to turn his back on this world his parents had weaved around him. But the only solution had always been to abandon the country and flee, which meant leaving his mother behind since she was too frail to go far. And even then it was quite likely that the Dark Lord would track him down out of sheer spite. The only thing that was keeping him going now, giving him some kind of promise of a future that didn't reek of murder and regret, was Granger. Living with Granger these last couple of weeks, imagining a life where she someday returned his feelings, had been his only way of coping with the horror he encountered every time he returned to the manor. And now she wanted to leave him. He finally raised his haunted eyes to meet her gaze. She was looking at him with something akin to guilt, as if she regretted her severe words to him. He just stared at her for a few timeless moments, before finally speaking in a voice that carried an embarrassingly pitiful croak.

"So that's what you think of me?"

Granger let out a breath, her cheeks turning pink as she tried to reach over to take his hand. Draco flinched and pulled his hand away so she couldn't touch him. He didn't want to reveal his weakness, and if she touched him then he might cave.

"No…I don't know…" she muttered softly, the anger draining away from her face completely under the weight of his disappointment, as she leaned her head in her hands, "I suppose I'm just trying to cope with the idea that my world has spun on its head. I don't know who to trust anymore. You're right - Harry and Ron _did_ leave me. And you…you saved me. How am I supposed to act now?"

Draco watched her for a moment. Her shoulders were tense and her eyes were flickering around the room as if looking for answers somewhere.

"Please don't leave," he said, and he saw the moment that his words hit her, as her eyes became shiny from tears. They didn't drop, just clung to her lashes as she swallowed.

"I don't really... _want_ to leave. But I can't be your anchor, Draco. You can't ask me to be your conscience. It's not fair."

He shook his head, dimly registering that the rumbling sound outside hinted at another thunderstorm rolling in that afternoon.

"That's not…" he drew in a shaky breath as he paused, "that's not what this is."

He felt a trickle of despair filter through him, as he began to panic that maybe she wouldn't even believe that his feelings were genuine. This had gone downhill so quickly that he wasn't sure what to do or say next. All his hopes from this morning were crumbling little by little as she looked at him with pity. _Pity_. She honestly believed that he was only nice to her, had only rescued her, so that he could pay penance for his crimes and absolve his guilt. She couldn't be more wrong, but even he had to admit that that was probably how it looked.

Before he could make any move to contradict her, Tilly appeared before them with a little pop of magic, making Granger jump in fright. Tilly curtseyed quickly to the curly haired witch before turning to Draco with urgent eyes.

"Master, your mother is wishing to speak to you."

" _Now?_ "

"Yes, Sir, she seemed agitated."

He stared at her in incredulity. Of all the bad timing for Narcissa to request his presence, this was the worst. He wasn't even sure what needed such urgent attention. She was barely aware of his existence lately, let alone inclined to seek his company. He raised his eyes to Granger and he knew from her brief nod that she understood the conflict going on inside him.

"Go," she said softly, with a sad little smile, "It might be important."

Draco nodded and began to put on his coat as he approached the door. Before he left he turned back to watch her pushing the now cold eggs around on the plate with her fork.

"Are you…will you still be here when I return?" he asked slowly, his voice a little bit hoarse from having to ask the question he dreaded. But Granger gave him a reassuring look that put him at ease.

"Of course, Draco. I would never just leave here without your knowledge after everything you've done for me. And it's not like I know where they are anyway, or have a wand. You might be stuck with me just a bit longer."

Draco felt a small amount of relief wash away the edge of panic he had been feeling. He nodded to her before wrapping a green scarf around his neck.

"This isn't over," he murmured quietly, and she tilted her head in agreement.

Then he was reluctantly backing away through the door and apparating to the manor to see what the bloody hell his mother wanted so urgently.

...

 **Sorry for the abrupt ending. But the next chapter will reveal some answers… Please review.**


	15. Devastated

**DEVASTATED**

 **Author's note: Hello everyone, I'm sure you're very curious about this chapter. It's an extremely long one today. I wasn't sure whether to break it up into two chapters, but in the end went for a single whirlwind. Prepare yourself. As always, JKR is the secret keeper of our childhoods.**

The Manor loomed up in front of him, shrouded by a dense cloud of mist. The weather was just as foul here as it was at his cottage. Draco strode impatiently up the drive, cursing the cold as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself. It was strange how his life had become divided into two very different worlds – he spent his weeks crossing between the blissful retreat of the cottage, and the hellish nightmare of life at the Manor. It was getting more and more tiring to reconcile the two parts of himself that existed in each world.

When Draco entered the foyer, he looked around him with a frown. It was suspiciously quiet. There wasn't the usual hustle and bustle of elves running around, and no groups of Death Eaters conducting meetings or generally being a pain in the ass. Despite being late morning, it was dark in the corridors as the heavy curtains blocked out the greyish sunlight from outside.

He wandered around the Manor, visiting the rooms where he was most likely to find his mother at this time. Once he had used up the other options, he finally sighed and made his way towards her bedroom. Narcissa and Lucius slept in different rooms – with a house this big, pureblood couples weren't required to share their private space. Draco thought that was quite depressing; if he chose to share his life with someone, he wasn't sure he could deal with the same level of apathy his parents had for each other. He wanted to love and be loved. He wanted to wake up next to his wife every morning because she made him happy. Shaking his head he creaked the door open to his mother's room with a soft knock on the ornate wood.

"Mother?"

There was no answer, but as he entered the room he saw his mother standing in front of the open window that stretched onto her own little balcony. She was wearing a white nightgown that flowed gently around her legs as she swayed from side to side.

"Mother," he repeated, trying to get her attention. She heard him and twisted around to face him as he approached her slowly. As he neared her he saw that she had a vague, stiff smile on her face. His mother wasn't very well known for smiling. She had given him moments of affection when he was younger, but had never been outwardly demonstrative in public or private. That didn't mean she didn't love him. He had always felt drawn to his mother's simple if a bit clumsy way of comforting him. Whereas his father usually threw money or power at any problem that came his son's way, his mother could calm his hurt feelings with just a couple of words. When he had been slashed by that Hippogriff in third year, his father had instantly jumped at the opportunity to exert his power with the ministry to literally murder the problem. But when he had gone home for the holidays with his arm in a sling (which he didn't really need but got a lot of nice sympathy for) his mother had just looked at him in her quiet, meaningful way and said, " _Chin up, Draco. Don't let them see your fear._ "

He frowned at the drastic change in her now. Beneath the draping fabric of her nightgown she was thin, skeletal even. And her eyes were wide and unfocused as if she wasn't really seeing him properly. It broke his heart to see her reduced to this state. She had always been such a proud, regal woman, and now she was wasted away by her fear and guilt.

"Hello, Draco darling," she said in a soft, almost inaudible voice.

"Mother," he replied with a concerned frown, stepping close to her to run his eyes over her bony form, "What is it? What's happening? The place is completely abandoned."

His mother reached up and touched her fingertips to his cheek. Her hand was freezing.

"So many questions, darling. You know people are always visiting for parties and tea. But no one calling today. No guests. They must have gone on a picnic instead."

Draco swallowed and stared at his mother. He knew she was becoming a bit disjointed, but it was always shocking to hear the inane babble that came out of her mouth. He didn't like to think of his mother as a crazy person.

"Okay," he said slowly, "So they're all gone today. That's not unusual. But what did you need me for?"

Narcissa reached up past his cheek and ran her hand gently through his blond hair. Her dark, deep-set eyes that she had inherited from her Black ancestry were regarding him very closely.

"You have grown into such a handsome young man, my darling."

"Mother, why am I here?"

She didn't answer him, just continued stroking his hair.

"Mother!" he prompted, and her eyes sparked briefly with recognition.

"I asked you to come."

"I know," he said very slowly as if speaking to a child, "But _why_? Are you feeling alright, mother?"

Narcissa smiled widely at him. It looked strange on her face. He had never seen her lips stretch like that before. She was one of those women who had always smiled with her eyes instead of her mouth.

"Draco…I'm so proud of you."

He stared at her, confused, as she continued to smile. Reaching up he grasped her hand, which had been playing mindlessly with his hair, and held it between his palms. Maybe he could warm up her icy fingers a bit.

"Mother…"

"You are a _good_ man. Promise me that you won't let anyone tell you or make you feel otherwise."

Draco was starting to feel uncomfortable with her direct, emotive gaze. He felt a little shiver go up his spine but couldn't identify exactly what was unsettling him. His mother had lost her marbles months ago, but now she almost sounded lucid despite the melodramatic words.

"How can you say that?" he asked in a soft voice, wondering if he could draw her out of her normal comatose shell given her current state, "I'm a Death Eater. Father made me into a Death Eater. Do you understand what that means?"

Narcissa shook her head from side to side, her eyes blurry and unfocused as she stared somewhere behind him as though she were looking right through his body to the wall behind him.

"I mean in _here,_ " she placed her other palm against his chest right where his heart was, "your soul is unbroken."

Draco grit his teeth and clenched her other hand tighter. He wanted to yell at her, anything to ruffle her or break her out of this creepy mood. Had she asked him here just so she could have a maternal moment with him because she was feeling sentimental?

"Yeh, well, it doesn't always feel that way," he muttered bitterly.

"Love will save you," she replied with a certainty that surprised him. He looked at her curiously. Her eyelids were drooping and she leaned closer to smell his shirt, which was pretty weird.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, thinking it was a strange coincidence that she would refer to love when he knew very well what, or _who,_ was waiting for him back at the cottage.

"A mother always knows," she said in a whisper as her eyes closed completely.

Draco's frown deepened as he looked down at her. Was she hallucinating, or did she really know about his feelings for Granger? Maybe it was just a coincidence. He realised that she was getting very pale. In fact, her lips had turned from a pasty white to almost blue.

"Mother," he grabbed her shoulders and shook them gently, but she just hummed in response and leaned even further towards him. Draco became alarmed, as he feared she was not able to support her meagre weight on her own. He held onto her tightly so that she wouldn't tip over.

" _Mother,_ " he repeated urgently, his whole body going cold. Her seemingly random declarations were falling together like puzzle pieces in his mind, and he felt his heart thud painfully in his chest as he squeezed her shoulders so tight he would probably bruise her.

"Mother, what did you take? What have you done?" his words were panicked, rushed, and his voice croaked like he had a throat full of gravel. Her eyes remained closed and her lips were definitely a distinctive tinge of blue now. She was going into some kind of toxic shock. But despite the obvious signs that her body was shutting down, she still looked peaceful, happy even. Slowly, they both sank to the ground, him supporting her tiny weight and cradling her to his chest. She was taking in gasping breaths as if she simply couldn't get enough air into her lungs, and her eyes were roving under the lids.

"PETAL!" he screamed the name of his mother's personal elf at the top of his voice. But when there was no response, he looked around the room wildly and saw quite clearly that she hadn't appeared. He tried again, louder this time. Narcissa drew in a rattling breath, a dazed smile still lingering on her face.

"She won't come. I gave her clothes. I gave them all clothes."

Draco's mind was spinning frantically now. He didn't know what to do. Her body was shaking so hard that he had to hold onto her firmly to stop her from hurting herself. But that was just a short-term fix, he needed to get whatever poison she had taken out of her system. He managed to stop shaking long enough to raise his wand.

"Accio bezoar."

A small wooden box came whizzing into the room and he just managed to catch it with unsteady hands. He quickly flipped the lid open and stared in total panic. It was empty. He stared in despair at the empty space inside where there should have been a stone. They had always kept one in the medicine cabinet in one of the bathrooms just in case.

"Oh shit… _shit_ , mother. What did you do?"

He threw away the box, feeling the satisfaction as it broke in two upon impact against the stone interior wall.

"Draco-" she rasped out his name through wheezing breaths that didn't seem to be actually sucking in any air. He twisted her body so that he could roll her onto her side. He had read something in one of his muggle books while searching for a method to heal Granger's arm. It was called a recovery position, and if he managed to make her vomit, he could maybe get whatever she had taken out of her system. As he raised his hand to her mouth, he felt his mother's steely cold fingers grasp onto it. Considering how weak she was becoming, he thought it was strange that she could clench it so tightly.

"I…lov…y…"

When he bent closer to her, he could hear her speaking and her words made him shudder and renew his determination. But before he could untangle his hand, her fingers suddenly went loose and released him, and her whole body seemed to go slack. He could barely see her face now as he realised tears were streaming down his cheeks and blurring his vision, but he did register the slight nose-bleed, and the almost purplish tinge of her lips and tongue. With one hand that was quivering so much it tingled from pins and needles, he reached forward and pressed two fingers to the vein in her neck.

There was no pulse.

"Oh fuck…mother…No! No, no no no no…"

But even as he shook her violently, she didn't move or show any signs of life. Draco wasn't sure how long he laid there on the floor with her, crying into her tangled, unkempt hair. Even though his body was wracked with violent sobs, inside he was completely numb. After the episode on the bathroom floor at his cottage, Granger had explained to him something about seven stages of grieving that muggles believed in. And Draco felt like he was racing through them all in a matter of minutes, or maybe it was hours. He was furious at Narcissa for taking her own life and not staying around to help him. He was angry at himself for not doing more to protect her. A part of him still thought briefly that she would take a deep breath and wake up again, even though rationally he knew that wasn't going to happen. He begged the beyond to stop her and send her back before she could pass through. And at some point he finally crumpled up on himself and clamped his eyes shut as he accepted the knowledge that she had simply lost the will to live. He could hardly blame her. While he was off living far away in his ideal cottage, she had been stuck here day in and day out as her own home was turned into a barbaric killing ground. He had failed her. And now she was dead, and despite all the personal guilt that ate away at him, there was really only one other person he truly blamed.

….

Eventually Draco heard footsteps on the wooden floorboards outside. He wasn't sure how long he'd been huddled up on the floor holding his mother's body, but her skin had started to turn even colder than it was before. And while some of Draco's tears had dried, the sticky skin of cheeks and stinging in his eyes were symptoms of his grief as new tears kept washing away the remnants of the old.

Finally the door banged open to reveal his father standing there with a look of complete shock on his face. Lucius took two steps into the room before he froze at the tableau that lay before him.

Draco was sniffling a bit now and trying to dry up his tears so that he could lay his mother's body down on the floor. As he went to stand, he finally raised his eyes to observe his father, and the expression on Lucius's face made him see red. The look in his eyes was not sorrow, or regret, or even confusion. Just disgust. He stared down at the figure of his wife's body and was clearly repulsed by her, as if she would spread her sickness to anyone who touched her.

"She killed herself," Draco muttered quietly, his tone completely flat.

Lucius let out a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet his son's. He seemed to consider Draco for a moment before he pursed his lips in a familiar sneer. It was the look he gave people at the ministry who stood in his way. It was the look he gave to the snatchers, as if they were a constant nuisance he had to put up with, but were ultimately so inferior that they were barely worth a second thought. And then he spoke.

"Yes, well, she was always so… weak."

Draco felt all the blood rush through his brain, his ears pounding and blocking out all other sounds except the internal wailing of grief and anger. In a few quick strides he breached the gap to stand before his father, knowing that he was now taller than Lucius in both height and in the potent strength of his fury. Before the other blond could say anything else, before he could spit any more venom from his hateful lips, Draco pulled back his arm, his fingernails piercing the skin of his palm as his hand clenched into a tight fist. Then he hit Lucius square in the face. It was a fierce blow, and the sound of knuckles meeting skull made a sickening crack echo around the room. Draco's impotent rage had finally boiled over into a single violent punch that sent Lucius sprawling on the ground, clutching his nose as blood began to pour from his nostrils almost immediately. The younger blond was shaking so much he could barely stand still, and he just managed to stop himself from spitting on the crumpled figure of his father on the floor.

He could have taken the time then to yell at Lucius. His father wouldn't have been able to argue back or stop him in his current state of pain. And a part of him badly wanted to shout accusations at the older man, to release all his pent up fury into a storm of vitriolic words. But another part of him – which he thought sounded suspiciously like Hermione Granger – told him that Lucius simply wasn't worth it.

Draco's eyes flickered over to the body of his mother still laying several metres away, her face serene in death. He had to get out of here. Now. Otherwise he would lose his mind, and he thought that murdering his father with his bare hands was likely to draw the wrong kind of attention from the Dark Lord.

"Tilly," he called in a hoarse voice, wiping his face quickly with the bottom of his shirt sleeve as it was still damp from tears.

The little elf appeared with a pop wearing her brightest tutu. Thankfully Narcissa hadn't been able to dismiss Tilly because technically the elf was owned by Draco. Tilly took one glance around the room, starting at Narcissa's body and over to Lucius's huddled form where he was nursing his broken nose and spitting profanities.

"Ma…Mast…" she croaked in horror, but couldn't quite get the words out.

"Tilly, I need you to listen to me very carefully now, can you do that?"

Tilly nodded fearfully and curtseyed as a nervous habit.

"I would like you to move my mother's…body," he forced the words out through clenched teeth, "The other elves have all gone away. She needs to be interned at the mausoleum in the northern garden. There is a gardener there who is in charge of the upkeep. He will help you. I can't…I can't stay, I…just-" he took one more quick look down at Lucius and felt his anger swell again, reaffirming to him how urgent his departure from here was. Otherwise he might not be held accountable for his actions.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think you can do that?"

Tilly observed him for a moment, before she looked over at Narcissa once more with sad, wet eyes.

"Yes Sir. Tilly is taking very good care of Mistress. Tilly will dress her and brush her hair too so she looks pretty…"

Draco nodded with relief, almost breaking down and crying at the elf's thoughtful acceptance of such a bleak task.

"Thank you," he said with a weak, grateful tone.

Before he could race out of there and away from his father, who was starting to scramble to his knees, he regarded Tilly once more with serious eyes.

"Tilly- if my father even starts to look at you funny, or makes any move towards you that makes you scared, I want you to apparate straight to me. That's not a request, it's an order."

Tilly nodded solemnly, her eyes flickering distrustfully over to the elder Malfoy, whose blood had by now soaked into the front of his shirt. Draco felt a sick sort of satisfaction from seeing his father's pain, but it wasn't enough. Realising that it was now or never, he turned on his heel with one last guilty glance at Narcissa. As his eyes observed her wraith-like body for the last time, he couldn't stop a final wave of nauseating rage rise up inside him. At the last minute he spun back around to face Lucius who had now reached his feet, and hit him again, sending him flying back onto the floor. Now he was ready to leave.

….

Draco had been standing in one spot for a very long time. The rain had completely drenched through all his clothes, and he was frozen right down to his bones. The cottage door was in front of him, but after he had apparated to the front of the property he had made no move to enter the house. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. What was considered _normal_ behaviour for someone whose mother had just killed herself?

The clouds had gathered in a dark cluster that was hanging so low over the area that it looked like a blanket smothering the countryside. And the rain was beating down on him steadily. He liked the feeling of the droplets on his skin. The tingling sensation was a very small distraction from the numbness inside.

He figured he was probably standing there for around half an hour before the front door creaked open slightly. A pair of worried brown eyes peered through the narrow gap.

"Draco?" she asked in a worried tone.

He swallowed. Granger was looking him over as if to reassure herself that he wasn't injured. He must look like shit, he thought. He was dripping wet and his hair was sticking out in all different directions. And he was sure his emotional turmoil was plastered all over his face. He felt like he hadn't blinked in about two minutes.

"Draco… what happened?"

He shook his head curtly, not willing to say the words. He didn't want to have to say it again like he had to his father. Just thinking about Lucius's callous response made him want to disapparate right back to the mansion and wring the bastard's neck with his bare hands. He was the one who had driven their family to this. A husband and father was supposed to protect his family, wasn't he?

Granger obviously sensed his distress. Maybe she even saw that he was having difficulty just doing simple things like walking to the damn door. Why couldn't he move? With a quiet nod of her curly head, she slowly approached him. She was moving cautiously as one would towards a wounded animal, and she even had her hands up, palms facing towards him in a gesture of peace. When she reached his side she looked at him intently. Draco shuddered a bit under her gaze, unable to look away from her anxious brown eyes. After a while she offered her hand to him, wriggling her fingers in a gesture of encouragement. He stared at her hand for a while before finally, with a noticeable tremor, he placed his fingers in hers. Granger's hands were so warm. Either that or his were so cold that it was just an illusion. She gently tugged on him until he obediently followed her into the cottage, still not having spoken a single word. She drew him along at a fairly slow pace until finally they reached the living room. Draco just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Now that the adrenalin had passed, he felt sluggish and dazed. As they entered the room, he saw that it was fairly dark except for the dusky orange glow of the fire, which was burning cheerfully in the grate. The contrast of the merry fireplace and the raging storm outside felt like a reflection of his tumultuous mood.

"Here, sit down," she murmured, and Draco let himself be coaxed onto a wooden stool right near the fireplace. It was so warm, he felt the first of his shivers fade and he closed his eyes briefly to soak it in. When he opened them again he couldn't see Granger anymore. She had disappeared for a moment, and he twisted his head around as he realised she had left him alone in the room. He wasn't sure why, but he started to panic a bit when he didn't see her there.

"Hermione?" he croaked, swivelling his head around and searching for her in every corner of the room as his heart pounded. Was he going mad too?

"It's alright, I'm here," her calming voice stilled his panic instantly as he saw her return from the bedroom carrying a box that he recognized as his medical kit. He flushed a bit in embarrassment at how he must look to her, afraid to be alone. But she didn't look at him with any judgement or pity, just concern. Which was understandable, he supposed distantly, considering the state he was in. She strode over quickly to kneel in front of him, and he watched in a sort of detached way as she opened up the medical kit. He gazed down at her as she quietly got to work. She removed a couple of cotton swabs and splashed some disinfectant on them. Draco was surprised when she began to dab at some gashes on his knuckles. He hadn't realised that he had hit Lucius so hard he broke the skin on his own fist. A loud crack of thunder rang through the cottage and Granger almost spilled the contents of the disinfectant as she jumped in shock.

"You called me Hermione," she murmured quietly, peering up at him from beneath thick lashes as she began to bandage his hand. His skin ached where their hands met. He was feeling a sensation like hunger all over his body at the feeling of her touching him so softly; like his skin craved her contact. He just nodded in response to her statement, realising that he had indeed called out her first name when he had been worried that she had left. The word had felt…nice, as it left his lips. He wondered whether she liked it as much as he did when she called him _Draco._ He doubted it. Hearing her say his first name conjured up all sorts of fevered ideas.

When Granger had finished strapping up his hand and putting away the contents of the kit, she stood as if to return it to the bathroom. As she turned to leave he quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist. She froze and her eyes widened in alarm. Draco shook his head and finally spoke again in a throaty whisper.

"Don't go."

He wasn't sure if he was talking about right now, or their earlier argument, but it didn't matter. Granger's worried frown deepened and she used her free arm to reach over and place the medical kit carefully on a shelf.

"Okay," she said slowly, not protesting when he used his grip on her wrist to pull her an inch closer to him. He wanted to get just a tiny bit closer so that he could smell her sweet apple scent. Maybe it would sink through some of the numbness. Eventually she spoke again, and this time he felt the little puffs of air on his face, which was still drenched with rain and tears.

"Draco, please…tell me what happened. I want to help you."

He shook his head vigorously a couple of times, not wanting to voice his pain. But when Granger voluntarily stepped closer in towards him and raised her hand to cup his cheek in a gesture of support, he lost the battle.

"I…she…when I arrived she was…" he was struggling to say the words. Every thought that came to mind was instantly dismissed as too abrupt, too cold, too thoughtless. How were you supposed to say it?

"Your mother…" Granger prompted gently. He took a deep breath and rallied up all his courage.

"She had taken poison. I couldn't…I couldn't help her in time."

When his meaning sunk in, he heard Granger gasp in horror and then groan as she slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh Merlin-" she finally whispered in a muffled voice, "She didn't really do it with you there…" she reached out with both hands now and pressed them to his cheeks to force him to look at her, "She asked you there so that you could be with her, didn't she?"

He nodded silently, fat tears forming once again like ice against his cold lashes.

"Oh…oh _Draco_ ," she said in a hoarse, pitiful tone, "I'm _so sorry._ "

And then she drew his head towards her, and he caved. Just like the night on the bathroom floor, he felt his head become nestled into the soft, sweetly scented arch between her neck and shoulder. But this time they were standing, if a little bit unsteadily on his part. As she held him they rocked together a bit, and Draco let his tears flow freely once more. He wasn't making a sound, just crying and shuddering silently against her. When he closed his eyes all he could see on the backs of his lids was the sight of his mother looking so damn happy as she died, like she was finally at piece. Despite the pale, almost translucent skin, and the streak of blood pouring from her nose, she had looked so calm, so peaceful.

But now, for the first time since he had held his mother's body, which felt like hours ago – it probably was, he had been pretty dazed – he felt other sensations start to finally pierce through the numbness. He felt how silky her curls were against his cheek, how her fingers traced lazy circles on his back in a show of comfort, how soft the curves of her body were pressed against his.

He grasped onto the feelings eagerly, so glad to just feel _anything_ else besides the consuming anguish that was ripping him apart. He concentrated on all the different sensations of being held by her, and it forced his mind to start working again. It had been ticking away so lethargically that it was a relief to become more cognisant again of his own thoughts and actions.

Draco started to catalogue all the parts of Granger that he was feeling, from her intoxicating scent right down to soft feminine bow of her waist – it wasn't a distraction so much as it was a catharsis from his pain. As he did this, he became dimly aware that she was becoming more and more wet from his drenched clothes and hair, which were seeping into her slowly. Worried that he would give her a chill, he pulled back from the embrace to apologize. Which was a huge mistake. When he stared into her eyes he was overcome by her expression of anxiety. Her brow was creased deeply in a frown of compassion that only _she_ could be capable of feeling so acutely, and her eyes were shining with tears.

She was crying for _him_ , Draco thought. She didn't even know his mother, which meant that she was welling up at the thought of _his_ pain.

It felt like after hours of having a fist clenched tightly around his heart, it was suddenly released and had started to beat again erratically, almost painfully. He gazed at her for a timeless moment, peering at her features through the shadowy light from the fireplace. His eyes flickered down to her lips as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Draco…" she began to say in a whisper, but whatever words of comfort she was going to give him were lost. As he heard his name sigh hauntingly from her lips, a shudder overtook his whole body. Without thinking, just seeking that desperate need to feel _more_ of her, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

As soon as they touched, he felt and heard her quiet gasp of shock, but he didn't pause or let up. For the first time in hours he _wasn't_ thinking about his mother's weak body falling to the ground, wasn't picturing her laying there. It was such a relief. Tilting his head, Draco opened his mouth and drew her bottom lip between his, caressing it gently. She tasted divine. His eyes clenched shut as he felt like he wanted to roll them back into his head in amazement. It was like rich black tea, chocolate and underneath all that was _her._ It tasted the same as her addictive scent that he had become hooked on like a drug, only it was more concentrated, more potent than just her smell.

His mind was spinning with a million thoughts, but the one that crystallised and forced its way to the front was the simple fact that she had not pulled away. She hadn't pushed him off her or shuddered in disgust. He registered faintly that she wasn't actually making any move to kiss him back, but that was just a small hurdle.

Draco drew his lips ever so slowly back from where they were caressing her bottom lip, but before they could separate completely, he dove back in. This time he kissed her a little harder, tasting more of her, and at last he heard her release a soft little whimper. He could feel her breaths panting against him, and he angled his head to kiss her again and again. They were smooth, delicate kisses that he kept repeating over and over, exploring every part of her lips, and the more he tasted, the more the weight on his chest lifted and seemed like a distant memory.

After what felt like an age, he felt Hermione open her mouth just a little to kiss him back. He shivered with excitement, but slowed down, searching out her now pliant, accepting lips for a long, drawn out caress which she returned.

Draco raised his hands, stroking his fingers across her cheeks and then running them back further and into her hair. He had been wanting to touch her hair for so long; he had dreamed of feeling its soft weight curled around his fingers. He couldn't stop the moan from escaping him that sounded like part desire and part anguish as he used his grip on her hair to turn her head to the side and kiss her more deeply.

Draco felt the blood rush from his head and he lost his balance a bit. Using the momentum, he pushed her backwards and they both stumbled towards the bookshelves. Her back hit it after a second, and the shelves made a creaking sound beneath their combined weight. Hermione made that whimpering sound again that sent a bolt of lust right through him, and he groaned in response. As he pressed his body into hers, he let his tongue dart out and trace it over her bottom lip while he sucked on it.

As the kiss heated up and gained a lot of intensity, he noticed the exact moment when Hermione started to squirm against him, and not in a good way. She wriggled her body a bit, using her forearms to gain some distance as she broke the kiss. Draco nodded, not wanting to push her, and pulled back away from the kiss. But he didn't want to go too far. He was still a bit worried that if he wasn't touching her, he would break down again and all those feelings of grief would return in full force. So he leant his forehead against hers and took a few moments to catch his breath, and she did the same.

"Hermione," he sighed, and he felt her shiver a little bit, "I'm sorry," he murmured the words that she probably deserved to hear, even if he wasn't the least bit apologetic about kissing her.

She leaned back a bit against the shelves, and he saw that her eyes were still a little damp as she sniffled. He could only imagine what _he_ looked like. Dishevelled probably didn't quite cover it. But her lips were red and swollen from his kisses, and as he stared at them he desperately wanted to lean in and claim them again.

"You're upset," she said quietly, "I shouldn't have let you-"

"No," he interrupted, reaching up and placing his hands on her cheeks again, forcing her to look him in the eye, "I've wanted to do that for a very long time."

He saw her swallow and blink a couple of times. Then she reached up and took his hands, bringing them down from where they held her face.

"This is a bad idea," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her. He shook his head at her, but she ploughed on, more firmly now, "we shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" he asked, his voice coming out as a rough croak.

"Because I'm not…I'll be leaving soon and...it's completely illogical."

Despite the pain that shot through him at her words, he couldn't help but smirk outwardly at her need for logic and control.

"So you're still determined to leave me?"

Granger looked up at him sheepishly, her guilt written all over her face, and he reached up again to run his fingers across her jaw.

"It's ok, you don't have to answer that," he murmured, "I know," he said in a resigned whisper as his fingers traced patterns absently over her soft skin. She frowned at him.

"Draco… your mother…" he felt his jaw clench as she brought up the one thing he was trying to avoid, "you can't just shut it out."

"I can try."

"No," she insisted, "It's not fair to her memory to simply ignore the pain…" she paused a bit before she set her mouth in a stubborn line and continued, "And it's not fair to me, either."

Draco stared at her for a moment as he absorbed her words. He instantly felt terrible for making her feel like he had taken advantage of her. It was obvious she thought he was simply using her to forget his grief. Wasn't he? Of course, she didn't know the full extent of his feelings, which meant all she had to go on was one impulsive, if amazing, kiss. He sighed as he let his fingers trail down from her jaw over her neck and finally came to rest on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "You don't know everything…" he let out a heavy breath. It wasn't right to bring it up now, not when he felt so raw with grief. If he said any more and she rejected him or even just accepted him out of pity, he wouldn't be able to recover easily, "but now is not the right time," he eventually added in a soft murmur, finally releasing her and taking a couple of steps backwards to give them both some space.

He saw Granger take a deep breath of air in relief, and he flinched a bit.

"You look terrible, Draco," she said with a tired frown, "You need to rest. We can deal with all this tomorrow."

He wasn't sure he liked being let off the hook, but he supposed he really wasn't equipped emotionally right now to deal with _anything_. But before she could turn away from him he shot her a last look filled with intensity and promise,

"This isn't finished, Hermione," he said, feeling her name roll off his lips pleasantly. He was gratified after a long immobile pause to see her hesitant nod of approval.

"Okay," she agreed quietly, before she stepped forwards away from the bookshelves that she had still been pressed flat against.

"You take the bed," she said softly, "I'll sleep on the couch," then she paused a little bit before she continued in a gentle tone, "Draco…is there anything else I can do for you?"

Draco stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge how far he could push her comfort levels today. He knew he would be playing on her compassion, but right now he was willing to do anything to not be alone. If he were alone, then he would be haunted by nightmares of his mother gasping for breath, her lips blue from lack of oxygen, her skin ashen white. He shuddered and felt his eyes prick again just at the passing thought.

"Please, Hermione… can you just stay with me tonight?"

Maybe it was the look of anguish in his eyes, or her own feelings of sympathy that made her agree, but after a long pause she finally nodded, and he gave her a shaky smile of relief. As they headed into the bedroom, both of them a bundle of nerves and heartache, he thought back to the words his mother had said just before he realised something was wrong with her.

 _Love will save you._

He hoped to Merlin she was right.

….

 **Phew. That was exhausting. This is a real game-changing chapter, so please leave many reviews. Thanks for reading!**


	16. Mourned

**Mourned**

 **Author's Note: Thanks for all your reviews after that intense chapter – as I said, it's a game changer! Some of you have already had some ideas about what this will mean for our favourite couple. Here we continue to explore the fallout from that death. As always, JKR is continuously reborn from the ashes.**

Draco had been in bed for three days straight. He had only left the comfort of the bed covers to go to the bathroom, and even then it was rather reluctantly. When he had finally woken from a deep sleep that following morning, his body had been overcome by a fit of lethargy. He hadn't wanted to move, or eat, or even take any potions to pep himself up. He had just curled up under the blankets, reliving those final moments of his mother's life, and occasionally falling into a fitful sleep. Of course, Granger had practically force fed him a few times, but all she managed to get him to swallow was very mild food and plain tea. He appreciated that she wasn't trying to get him out of bed. A part of him had expected her to push and boss him around until he got up. But she didn't. She just made sure that he was eating and drinking fluids. She would even come and sit on the bed with him for a few hours at a time reading a book. They didn't speak; just lay next to each other in blissful silence. And at night when it became too much for him, she wriggled just a little closer so that he could feel the warmth of her body near his.

During the few times when he felt lucid and his mind was temporarily back in gear, Draco wondered what she was thinking. Did she regret their kiss? Did she enjoy it? He knew that she had been affected. He remembered the way she had shuddered under him, and how she had released those little whines of pleasure. Not to mention the way she'd finally kissed him back. Granger had been innocent and tentative, but she had definitely parted her lips and caressed his in return. In his better moments, when he wasn't wallowing in self-pity, he had had to bite into his bottom lip to stifle the groan he wanted to release at the memory of her heady taste, and her soft pliable kisses. He wanted so much more. He wanted to kiss his way across her jaw and down her slim neck, and nibble on the skin near her shoulder to see if it would make her shiver. And that was just the start.

But mixed in with these thoughts, interrupting them constantly, was the reminder of his mother dying in his arms. He woke from nightmares in which he was trying to save her, but he never could. He shouted for help and no sound came out. He summoned vial after vial of potion, and all were empty. And before he could grasp onto the one idea that would cure her, he would wake up. Once when he woke in a cold sweat, panting and twisted up in the sheets, Granger had been there. As his groggy mind caught up, he became aware of a warm, soft hand stroking up his forehead and into the roots of his hair. She was murmuring comforting words into his ear as she caressed the damp blonde strands, and Draco shivered in response, allowing his body to relax again. He hadn't needed to thank her; he could see the understanding in her wide brown eyes. This close her eyes reminded him of rich dark chocolate, and he licked his sweaty upper lip as his eyes drooped lazily once more. Feeling cocooned in the warmth she was giving to him, he continued to sleep.

….

Draco watched her from his spot on the couch as she kneaded the dough for some scones. He could just see a glimpse of her every now and then working away busily in the kitchen. Granger had decided to do something special for him, she had told him, to celebrate the fact that he had finally found the balls to get out of bed. It was worth it just to see the beaming smile on her face when she saw him emerge from the shower, clean and looking a little more alert. She had immediately declared that she would bake him a batch of scones since she knew how much he loved them. There had been no use protesting, she was already donning her apron and getting to work.

Draco had found a convenient spot on the couch where he could see her, and he had enjoyed coming slowly out of his self-inflicted prison. The haze of depression seemed a little bit clearer with her around. It simply re-enforced his need to keep her with him. Maybe he could still convince her to stay with him. Even better, now that his mother was gone, as heartbreaking as that circumstance was, maybe it was safe now for him to flee. He could pull all his assets out and they could both run away to Europe together. Maybe Paris. He could really see Granger swanning around Paris, reading books at cafes and visiting galleries and museums.

The more rational side of him knew with a grim certainty that if they were going to flee, then he would essentially have to kidnap her. She had such a fierce sense of duty to her bloody friends that he was unlikely to change her mind. And of course, if he did take her against her will, she would probably never forgive him. He wasn't sure what to do. All he knew was that he didn't want to be parted from her. If she refused to come, then he wouldn't be able to run either. Not now that he knew what she was really like. His infatuation had matured into a deep love and respect that he had never thought he would be capable of. Living with her was actually dangerous, because he felt like he was burning all day every day, whenever she was near. He craved her constantly, especially now that he had had a taste of her. And she made him happy; far happier than he had ever felt in his dismal childhood or school years.

At that moment, Granger popped her head around the door and bestowed a sweet smile on him.

"Just popping them in the oven. Won't be long now. Jam and Cream?"

"Both," he said with a nod and a very small smile of his own. Granger disappeared back into the kitchen and then proceeded to make a few banging clanging sounds before she re-entered the living room.

"Twelve minutes," she said, her eyes flicking to the clock on the mantelpiece. Draco settled back into the couch with a smirk as he watched her perch herself on the edge of the coffee table. She had flour stains on her cheek and forehead, and her apron looked splotchy with dusty patches as well. She had never looked so adorable.

"Hey," she said, her eyes widening in realisation, "You smiled."

"What?"

"You just smiled," she said with a grin, "I haven't seen that signature Malfoy leer for a while."

"It's my most charming feature," he said, his mood perking up at her light banter.

"Well at least you haven't lost your arrogance."

He chuckled.

"Hey, there's a lot to love," he said with a cheeky smile and a shrug. Granger's eyes were alight with mirth as she saw his humour come out again. She had obviously been worried about him these last few days. Seeing her wide gaze, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair nervously, sobering quickly.

"Look, Granger, I want to thank you for your patience these last few days. I know I have been… _indisposed_ , but it means a lot that you've stayed and helped without expecting anything in return."

He said all this in one breath, and didn't raise his eyes to meet hers until he reached the very end of his little speech. She was smiling sadly at him now, and had leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

" _Of course,_ " she replied emphatically, "I'm truly sorry about what happened to your mother, Draco. I wish there was _more_ I could do."

"You've done everything," he assured her quietly.

"I may not hold the rest of your family in very high regard," she began with a little sneer of her own, "but your mother was clearly a victim of circumstance as much as you or I. It upsets me that she felt she had no other way out."

Draco wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it yet, but he nodded in acknowledgement of her words.

"I just wish there's more I could have done," he finally said, unable to avoid spilling a little bit of his heart when she was staring at him so damn dolefully.

"I know," she agreed softly, "do you…" she hesitated but Draco nodded to let her know she could continue, "Do you resent her for putting you through that?"

Draco considered her questions for a moment. Did he? Of course he didn't like having to endure that kind or pain, and the memory of it would haunt him for as long as he lived, but he was kind of glad nonetheless that he had been with her in those final moments. If he had only heard second hand that it had happened, it would have made him go mad with not knowing. And he got to see her, talk to her in a strangely lucid moment. So no, he didn't resent her.

"No," he voiced out loud to Granger, frowning pensively.

"Why?"

"She's free now. And as horrific as it was for me, she was happy. That's going to help me get through the pain."

Granger nodded in understanding, his sadness reflected in her own eyes, and he wondered if she was thinking of her parents as well.

"But I'm glad that _you_ ' _re_ safe," she said after a while, "you were gone for so long I started to worry."

He smiled a bit at her, suddenly feeling a bubble of laughter rise up inside him.

"I broke my father's nose," he said in a sudden rush, watching as her brown eyes widened in shock, and he couldn't help adding evilly, " _Twice._ "

She was silent for a moment as she absorbed his spontaneous and gleefully violent confession. After a long pause during which her eyebrows almost reached the ceiling, she finally burst into laughter. He joined her, unable to prevent the surreal wave of humour from taking over him.

"Oh thank _Merlin_ ," she groaned, wiping her eyes, "Well done. It's about time someone clocked him."

"It did feel good," he said with a mischievous smirk, "Though I'm sure it can't be healthy celebrating about punching ones dad in the face."

Granger shook her head whimsically.

"No I daresay a muggle psychiatrist could write an entire paper on your family."

Draco wasn't sure what that meant, but he chuckled anyway as he saw the glint of mischief catch on in her eyes.

"Why are we laughing?" he asked quizzically.

Granger shook her head with a confused expression.

"I don't know. I guess when you're in the middle of a war you just lose touch with things like that. How to laugh."

Draco nodded solemnly. They had both become subdued again as they watched each other, and he was seized by the sudden impulse to kiss her again. She was close to him, and he could see the moisture on her pouty bottom lip that he craved to press himself against to heal his own dry, chapped lips.

At that moment, a dinging sound rang through from the kitchen, and Granger leapt up nervously, suddenly twitchy, which made him wonder whether she'd been thinking along the same lines.

"The scones are ready!"

He raised a brow.

"Wow, that was quick."

"They don't take long to bake," she explained as she passed into the kitchen and drew the tray out of the oven. It smelt delicious and Draco suddenly realised just how hungry he was. He really hadn't eaten very well these last couple of days. And he did love scones.

"I'm going to use the homemade raspberry jam you bought for me at the festival," she called out to him, and his mouth watered in anticipation of the treat; he was overcome by a sudden sweet tooth in anticipation.

After a little time and a few clatters and bangs from the kitchen, Granger emerged with a tray of scones with jam and cream in one hand, and another tray with a teapot and two cups in the other.

"This is very domestic, Granger," he commented with a smirk. She just tutted and placed the trays down in front of the couch, moving to sit next to him. While Draco was preparing a scone for himself, he watched her curiously as she poured tea for them both. She made his tea just how he liked it. Strong brew, with such a small dash of milk that it only slightly coloured the black liquid.

"Thank you," he said politely as she passed him the cup. The afternoon tea was perfect. They munched away at the delicious scones, which he had to admit Granger had made to perfection, and it was nice to feel full again.

Once they had made their way through half a pot of tea, he wiped the sticky jam and floury dust from his mouth to speak.

"So, when all this is over, do you think you'll sit your NEWTs?"

She looked a bit surprised at the random question, but it was something he had wanted to ask her for a while.

"When this is over? But what if we don't-"

Draco held up a hand and gave her a warning look.

"Let's just imagine for argument's sake that everything works out splendidly and you and your suicidal friends survive."

Granger thought about that for a moment, after a brief frown in his direction. She chewed slowly on a bite of scone, as she seemed to stare sightlessly at the bookshelves behind him.

"Well I suppose I would. But I haven't studied for them,"

Draco snorted and waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't be ridiculous. You could take them tomorrow and pass."

"I don't want to just _pass._ "

Draco smiled at her uppity tone, which brought back countless memories from their school days.

"Of course," he agreed with a roll of his eyes, "So you study for a bit and achieve all Outstandings. But what then? Any career ideas?"

Granger smiled a bit sheepishly at him, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

"Well…you're going to laugh, but I wouldn't mind getting involved in the legislative protection and conservation of magical creature rights and welfare."

Draco did laugh very slightly, before shrugging his shoulder and giving her an encouraging smile.

"Well that seems like the perfect job for you," he teased lightly, but he knew she could see his approval in his expression. He thought it was a brilliant idea. She could really take the wizarding world by storm. They were still so backward in so many ways.

"What about you?" she asked, popping another piece of scone in her mouth. Draco shook his head.

""Well that depends on how this all turns out…" he started, but her eyes widened and she swallowed her mouthful quickly.

"Wait a minute! That's not fair. You told me I had to pretend that things will go splendidly."

Draco sighed and smiled at her sadly.

"Yes, well… for you everything _will_ work out in the end. For me, if the Dark Lord dies, and the good side wins, then I'm still fucked either way."

"What do you mean?" she asked with a deep frown.

"Come on, Granger. It's quite likely that I will be arrested and sent to Azkaban. I'll probably have all my assets stripped. There might be a lengthy trial but they could also just lock me up and throw away the bloody key."

Granger squirmed on the couch a bit, leaning in towards him as her brown eyes hooked him with an intense gaze.

"That's ridiculous. You're innocent."

Draco shook his head with a rueful laugh at her naivety. She was the brightest witch of her age, but she also had a heart of gold that couldn't grasp the corruption and brutality of the Ministry of Magic. Or his own guilt.

"No, I'm not," he said forcefully, trying to impress upon her the gravity of what he was saying, "I _am_ a Death Eater. I have willingly partaken in Death Eater activity. I can't escape from that."

Granger was become more and more agitated.

"But you did all that so that you wouldn't be killed!"

"And how many people will argue the same? All the Death Eaters will claim that they were forced. And the ministry won't repeat its mistakes from last time. My father and his friends wont be able to buy their way out this time around."

She huffed and he could see her bite into her bottom lip so hard it turned a flushed crimson as the blood welled beneath the skin.

"You were only sixteen when your father forced you to join!"

Draco snorted.

"They don't care about that. They'll just say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

He couldn't stop the edge of bitterness seeping into his voice. He hated any thought of being compared to Lucius. If he were like his father in any way besides appearance, he would have turned his wand on himself long before now. Granger was staring at him in horror; her eyes were even turning a little milky now with unshed tears, and his gut twisted at the thought that she cared about his fate. At least _someone_ would spare him a though when he was rotting away in prison.

"No," she said in a low, stubborn voice that he had only heard on a few occasions when she was really putting her foot down. He shivered at the heat and directness of her gaze.

"You may as well accept it, Grang-"

" _No_ ," she repeated, interrupting him more forcefully, "there's one thing that you're forgetting. Something that none of those other Death Eaters have going for them."

He raised an eyebrow, sceptical but curious nonetheless.

"And what's that?"

She shrugged one shoulder, the frown still painted darkly on her face.

"Me," she said simply.

His brow shot up even further as he looked at her in disbelief. She saw that he wasn't quite following, so she sighed and continued.

"I will vouch for you! Can any other Death Eater say that they have Hermione Granger - muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter – speaking on their behalf?"

"I guess not… but Gra…Hermione-" he released a deep breath. He was extremely touched by her gesture. It warmed him to think that she would stand up for him when everything went to shit. It made him hope that she cared enough about him to risk her friends' rejection. But that didn't mean that he would accept her help, "I can't let you do that. "

"I wasn't asking your permission," she replied coolly.

"I can't let you risk everything for me; your friends, your reputation…"

Granger scoffed and glared at him, as if daring him to keep listing such poor excuses.

"Well first of all, if my friends don't support me in something like that, then they're not really my friends. And my reputation is already in tatters. Rita Skeeter shredded it in our fourth year by proclaiming me as some kind of man-eating bitch."

Draco couldn't help chuckling at that, and her glare intensified.

"With some help from _you_ if I remember correctly," she added.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said with mock innocence. She just shook her head and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated style in response. Then she became serious again and shuffled a bit closer to him on the couch.

"Draco, there's nothing you can say that will stop me from fighting for you at the end of this war. You're my friend, aren't you?"

His head twitched up at, and he felt his gut clench. Her gaze was piercing through him but he wasn't sure how to respond. The word friend was both a blessing and a curse. He longed to be someone she cared about, someone that she could rely on and share everything with. And aside from an inconsistent friendship with Blaise over the years, and his goon-squad of course, he had never really had any friends. But at the same time, the word felt so inadequate. He wanted so much more than that, and his heart pounded as he broke into a cold sweat thinking about the possibility that that was all _she_ wanted. He was uncertain at this point whether he would just take anything she offered, even mere friendship, or whether it would be impossible for him to stay only friends with her. The thought of being labelled as just a friend like Potter or the Weasel while she was off dating other men made him feel ill. He swallowed his pride as he met her wide brown-eyed gaze, and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Is that what we are? Friends?" he asked her. His voice held quiet meaning, and he knew she would understand his intent.

He saw her shiver a little bit and press back further into the couch cushions as she stared at him.

"You saved my life," she murmured quietly.

He just nodded slowly and waited for her to continue.

"Do you…not _want_ to be my friend?" she asked eventually with a pained frown.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise at the question. He couldn't believe she would be so insecure. But then again, he supposed that after years of having to work really hard to gain and earn people's friendship, she was probably very wary of making any new bonds. He considered his answer carefully while she waited. He could see her biting into her bottom lip in that infuriating way, and it made him want to run his tongue over the flesh to soothe it. It was too distracting. Finding a solution somewhere in the middle, he reached up and touched his thumb to her lip, gently pulling it free and allowing his hand to linger as his fingers stroked her jaw.

"Granger,," he finally replied in a tone that was far too deep and husky, but he couldn't seem to control it, "some of the things I want do not exactly fall into the category of friendship."

Her eyes widened slightly, before flickering down very briefly to his lips. Draco heard her breath catch and he could see the moment when her skin started to flush self-consciously. He waited with his heart thumping uncomfortably.

"Was it… _real_ then?" she whispered anxiously.

"Was what real?"

"That kiss the other night. Did you really want it? Or were you just upset?"

Draco had to forcefully stop himself from rolling his eyes, knowing that despite all her intelligence and seeming confidence, she really did find it difficult to believe that a man could desire her.

Instead of answering her, he allowed his fingers to stop their gentle roaming across her face. Instead he moved them further back to lace into her hairline and become tangled in her thick braid. Then he used the leverage to lean in towards her and cover her mouth with his for the second time.

This kiss was different to the last one. He didn't have to coax anything out of her or seduce her with his touch. She responded instantly, and he took his time enjoying her. His mouth explored her swollen bottom lip as he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, and she returned it with vigour. She was releasing little mewls in between each heady kiss that drove him wild. He turned her head with the hand he had wrapped up in her tight braid, using the angle to nibble on that bottom lip, placing soft little bites on her tender flesh, before tracing his tongue over them to soothe her. His imagination had been spot on. Against his cracked lips, he felt like he had found an oasis in the desert. She was moist and soft, and tasted like sweet raspberry jam.

When his tongue touched a little further on one passing, he heard Hermione's purr of pleasure as she arched her body towards him, and he groaned in response. Boldly, he let his lips and tongue explore deeper, and felt a thrill of desire clench in his navel when she opened her mouth in response, accepting him in. When he stroked the inside of her mouth, he wanted to collapse from the strength of her taste. He had thought he was addicted from just her lips, but this was a whole different level. She was superb. Slowly he gentled the kiss, which had unsurprisingly gotten a little out of hand, and leaned back a few centimetres away from her.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked with a wry smirk. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw how dark her irises had turned, and she was breathing quite quickly. He felt a jolt of lust shoot through him at the sheer _want_ in her eyes. He had only before dreamed of that look, and now it was staring at him, wanting to devour him. He suddenly felt like a man dying of thirst. Luckily before he could say something stupid and sappy to ruin it, Hermione seemed to grow impatient. She leaned in quickly and sealed their lips together once more. Draco groaned as he felt her give more than just passive acceptance. She reached up and grabbed his hair, clenching it in her shaking fingers as she kissed him back passionately. His own hands had moved to hold her body closer to his, and he ran them over her hips, her sides, her thighs, driving himself crazy as he felt her soft curves. He wanted to taste more of her. Breaking away from her mouth, Draco let his lips wander over her jaw and down her neck just like he'd imagined. He gripped onto her as she arched towards him, pausing to nibble at her collarbone. As his teeth, tongue and lips wandered over the bottom of her neck, he knew the instant that he found one of her weak spots. She gave a sort of gasp of surprise that turned into a faint moan, and he felt the shiver pass through her body.

Draco was rapidly losing control. He was starting to push her back into the couch as he returned to her lips, kissing her with abandon. But she was giving back just as much. He had rapidly hardened seconds after they had started kissing, but now he felt a steady, almost painful throbbing as it escalated. Needing to come up for air, he broke the kiss for a moment and stared at her in wonder as he panted. Hermione blinked her eyes open slowly, her gaze a little unfocused at first. Her lips were red and swollen and she was trying to drag in long breaths just like him. She looked incredibly sexy, especially with her curls trying to escape that prissy braid.

He let his eyes drink her in for another moment, unable to believe that she was really here, that she was actively seeking out and returning his desire. When her eyes focused a bit more, she began to look confused at why he had stopped so suddenly. He smiled a bit, unable to prevent the excited, almost mischievous smirk from appearing.

"Hermione," he said her name in a croaky, deep voice again that he couldn't seem to be able to make sound normal, "Do you really-"

There was a little pop of magic and they both jumped in surprise. Tilly had appeared just inside the door and she immediately released a gasp of shock. Draco dropped his arms from where he was holding onto Granger, and he felt her wriggle a bit away from him so they weren't pressed together quite so intimately. He heard Tilly say something, but he was having a hard time pulling his mind out of the fog of lust to concentrate on the little elf who was peering up at him guiltily. Luckily the elf had a tendency to ramble, so he managed to get a hold of himself as his racing heart slowed down back to normal.

"Tilly is sorry, Master. She should have knocked," she was stuttering.

"It's alright, Tilly," he reassured, though his voice was still a bit shaky, trying to calm the elf who looked like she wanted to go iron her fingers. His eyes flickered to the side to look at Granger, and he saw the deep pink blush that had spread across her cheeks, which made him smirk. She was looking towards the bookshelf and avoiding the elf's eye because she was so embarrassed, and her fingers had immediately flown to her hair to try and tame the stray curls back into place.

"Master is not upset?"

"No Tilly, of course you're welcome to come and go as you need."

He managed to turn his eyes away from Granger then and really look at his elf. Tilly seemed exhausted. She was heavy on her tiny feet, and her eyes were bloodshot. In one hand she was holding a non-descript black cotton bag that seemed a bit heavy. The contents were lumpy and hastily slung over her shoulder. Draco widened his eyes in realisation, feeling his mouth go dry. It was like he had been doused with cold water, as he felt the heat of desire quickly drain from his body. He was pretty sure he knew what she had brought him.

"Is that…" he started to say, pointing at the black bag.

Tilly nodded slowly, and watched him with concern as he rose to his feet. He paced across the living room a couple of times, dragging his hands through his blonde hair. He wasn't sure he was ready for the reminder of his mother to invade his little world right now. But as he gripped his hair in his hands, he tried to summon the courage to deal with his grief without letting it consume him.

"Draco?" Granger asked in a soft, anxious voice.

He turned back to look at her, even though his eyes kept continuously glancing over at that bag.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, knowing that she was confused about his abrupt change in mood, "Tilly has just brought back some of my mother's things."

"Oh," she exclaimed in surprise, immediately looking at him with even more concern. She watched him with that fretful stare of hers as he strode over to the little elf and took the weight of the bag from her. He could practically feel Granger biting her lip from here. But he didn't feel overly curious about shifting through the contents, not wanting to bring up so many painful memories, but he did open the top quickly to peer in. Tilly had done well to gather so many of Narcissa's more precious possessions to save them from the manor. Who knows what would have happened to them otherwise?

"Thank you, Tilly," he murmured quietly with a shaky tone.

He noticed that Granger had risen from the couch to approach them, and he felt himself relax as she placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even realised he had become so suddenly tense all over. He leaned into her touch slightly and she pressed her body closer, her fingers rubbing soothing patterns between his shoulder blades. He heard her take a deep, slow breath and felt the tickle of air as she exhaled against his neck. It was nice. He wondered if his life would've been easier if he'd had this kind of support before.

"Tilly," Granger began in that compassionate voice that would tame any wild animal, "You look exhausted. When was the last time you slept?"

He returned his gaze to the elf as well, still soaking up Granger's soft comforting touch as he too looked down on the elf with concern.

"Um…Tilly can't remember," the elf squeaked, and Granger tutted in response.

"You need to rest. I'll make you some soup and a sandwich while you go and have a nap in your bed."

Tilly looked a bit unsure, and Draco could see her eyes flickering to his as if she wasn't sure who to listen to.

"Do as Miss Hermione says, Tilly, that's an order."

The elf looked immediately relieved, and her wrinkled lips stretched into a smile as she toddled off to her attic room. When she was gone, Draco turned around to face Granger, resting his forehead against hers.

"Thank you," he whispered. That part of him that was not coping with the grief wanted to go and bury himself beneath the covers again. But with Hermione still touching him, looking at him with those endless brown eyes, he thought maybe he could face it this time. Raising the hand that wasn't holding the bag of his mother's things, he cupped her jaw, allowing his thumb to stroke indolently over her cheek. Granger's eyes fluttered shut at the gentle sensation. Draco felt a small pulse of desire return once more, and he leaned in to kiss her. Unlike their first two kisses, this one was mostly chaste, just a small peck that lingered with the promise of more. He stepped back a little as Granger sighed into his mouth, drawing away slowly. Her eyes opened blearily, and she looked at him with a strange mixture of desire, confusion and fear. But before he could say anything to reassure her, she smiled shakily and stepped away as well.

"I'm going to make Tilly that food. I'll put some aside for you for dinner as well, so you can have time to go through your mother's things in private."

He nodded and returned her smile, watching her walk away from him at a casual pace. Her hips sashayed from side to side as she entered the kitchen, and his mouth was dry again just from that tentative kiss. A stubborn thought crossed his mind as she disappeared from view.

 _I'm definitely not letting her leave_.

…

 **Thanks for reading, I'm always interested to hear what you think is going to happen. So please review!**


	17. Attached

**Attached**

 **Author's Note: Hi all, thanks for putting up with all the angst these last couple of chapters, I think it's time for a bit of warm gooey stuff now. As always, JKR is the inventor of the Bubble-Head Charm (aka how I feel when I'm reading her books!)**

It wasn't until much later that evening that Draco heard a soft knock at the bedroom door. It creaked open and Granger peered in. It took her a while to spot him, as he was using only very faint candlelight against the darkness encroaching from outside. A couple of hours before, she had snuck into the room and left a plate of food, which he had devoured within a few ravenous minutes. Despite the scones earlier, he had been famished, and her homemade lamb stew and crisp cucumber sandwiches had really hit the spot.

"Draco?" she asked hesitantly as she entered the room, closing the door with a gentle click behind her.

He gave her an encouraging smile and gestured for her to come further in, trying to put her at ease. He had a few of his mother's things on the dresser before him, and he was sorting through some of her old letters and documents that Tilly had included in her rescue mission. A few of the more precious pieces of jewellery and heirlooms he had already examined and stored. It hadn't been easy, going through her things. But he supposed it felt like a kind of catharsis to deal with all those jumbled emotions as he did.

"Hey," she murmured shyly as she came and perched on the edge of the bed near him, "How are you going?"

He nodded and turned to face her, running his hands through his hair.

"Fine," he said quietly, and chuckled when she gave him a doubtful glare, "Really, Granger, I'm alright. What time is it?"

"Ten," she replied, and his eyes widened in surprise. Was it really that late? His gaze darted across to the little ticking clock on the bookshelf and he made an involuntary grunt of disbelief.

"Wow," he murmured quietly, "I hadn't realised. What have you been doing?"

Granger shrugged one shoulder with a slow, lazy smile.

"Just reading. I think I found something I want to try on my arm."

"Really?" he asked with interest.

She nodded, looking pleased with herself, but before she could answer she raised her hand quickly to her mouth to stifle a yawn.

"It's late," he said in a hushed tone. Feeling a bit bold, he moved over to sit next to her on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly, and he noticed that Granger immediately diverted her gaze to her fingers, which she was twisting nervously together. They were shaking. Draco frowned, reaching over and placing his hand over hers, holding onto her fingers. Her skin was warm and he felt a thrill trace up his spine as Granger turned her palm over to link her fingers through his. He grabbed the opportunity to run his thumb over her skin, delighting when he felt goose bumps prickle over the back of her hand.

They were both staring at their entwined fingers now, both nervous to meet the other's eye. Eventually Draco raised his gaze to her. Her braid was quite loose now that it was so late, and a few curls had escaped to drift tantalisingly across her neck. And she was biting into her bottom lip. She sensed his stare and lifted her head, and their eyes connected.

"Draco…" she began in a hoarse whisper, but her voice was tremulous and uncertain.

"What is it?" he asked reassuringly.

She was silent for a few more moments. She chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated her words, and her hand was squeezing his a little more tightly. Finally she took a deep breath and stared at him with those round brown eyes that seared right through him.

"I want to know why you kissed me. What is this to you?"

Draco forced himself to swallow to cool his dry, burning throat. His heart was thumping. So she had finally worked up the courage to tackle this thing directly. He lifted their joined hands a little higher, and purposefully stroked her skin again in a soothing gesture.

"Do you want me to give it a label?" he asked with a gentle twitch of one side of his lips into a smirk. Hermione shook her head with a frown, even though he could see the humorous twitch of her mouth.

"If you wouldn't mind," she retorted with one raised brow.

He sighed.

"I don't know what to call it. I…uh…all I really know for sure, is that this isn't a game to me.

He honestly didn't know how to express himself. What if she threw it back in his face? Just because she enjoyed a couple of kisses, that didn't necessarily mean she wanted something serious.

"Do you…never mind," she flushed red and looked down. Draco squeezed her hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"Do you really _want_ me?"

Draco blanched a little bit at her question. It was quite direct, but then when had Hermione Granger ever beaten around the bush? If it were anyone else, someone with more confidence in her appearance, she would have known without any doubts just how much he wanted her. But Granger was different. She honestly didn't think boys could find her attractive. It wasn't self-pitying or ignorant, just completely oblivious to the effect she had on those around her.

"Yes, Granger," he said in a low voice, placing a couple more lingering kisses on her knuckles, "I _definitely_ want you. And if Tilly hadn't interrupted us earlier, I would have show you just how much."

He felt Granger shiver again. Feeling courageous, Draco tugged her a little closer using his grip on her hands. He toyed with a few of the curls draped around her neck as he leaned in to kiss her. His eyelids were heavy and he could feel her little puffs of air as she started to breath more and more rapidly. Just as he placed the first chaste little peck on her bottom lip, she groaned a bit and pulled back.

"I should be honest with you," she said very quickly, her hands shaking again as she stared down at her twisting fingers in a nervous gesture.

"Okay," he said slowly, wondering how bad it could be, and dreading some of the more depressing possibilities. She raised her eyes to his again and looked at him sadly before she spoke.

"Before we got captured…actually it was about a month before that even, Ron and I talked about becoming a couple."

Draco's gut turned over unpleasantly at her words. He had of course suspected along with half the school about the growing attachment between the ginger menace and the bookworm. It had been hot gossip all through their sixth year. Draco remembered being delighted when that skanky cow Lavender Brown practically threw herself all over the Weasel, because it meant that Granger was kept at a distance. Of course, it hadn't been easy at the time seeing her watching them with the green sting of jealousy in her eyes. Not when she barely even noticed _him_. And while of course he hadn't intended to poison Weasley, he was malicious enough to admit that he had been savagely pleased when the undeserving git had ended up unconscious in the Hospital Wing.

Draco clenched his teeth now, forcing himself to calm down. She had only said that they _talked_ about it. That didn't mean Weasley had some kind of claim over her. If he did, Draco was sure he'd smash the prick's face in next time he saw him. He'd probably do it without magic just for the satisfaction of feeling the bones break under his knuckles. He took a couple of deep breaths and pushed away the feeling of sickness at the turn of the conversation, making sure he approached this with a cool façade.

"So…you talked about it. What did you both say?" He had to grind the words out, but he thought that maybe he had succeeded in looking unruffled. Or maybe not, judging by the guilty look she shot at him.

"Well it was just a few short whispers while Harry was inside sleeping. But Ron said he was sick of us both avoiding our feelings. He reckoned that everyone knew that we would eventually get together except us. So he suggested that we…you know…make it official."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"How romantic, Granger. The weasel really has a way with words. So what did _you_ say?"

She bit her lip as she shook her head disapprovingly at him for his dripping sarcasm.

"I said that I needed time to think about it, but that if we were going to be together, then it would have to wait until after the war. And so he promised that he would wait for me."

Draco wanted to look away, he wanted to do anything else except stare into her eyes like a bloody puppy that had been kicked.

"And…how do you feel now?" he asked, wincing at the pitiful croak in his voice. She sighed and wrung her hands tighter together as that crease between her brows deepened in anxiety.

"I don't _know,_ Draco! For months, years even, I have just expected that one day I would be with Ron. Everyone said so. I've had a crush on him since fourth year."

"But?" he prompted hopefully, sensing there was another part to her rant.

" _But,_ " she agreed with quiet emphasis, "These past couple of weeks with you, and _kissing_ you… it feels different."

"Different how?" His heart was thumping louder now; he was surprised she didn't hear it.

"Everything is just so much more intense. Every touch and feeling and even when we're just talking…" she took a deep breath and let it out as her blush spread from her cheeks and down across her collarbone. He wondered vaguely just how far down it went. She was so nervous. He couldn't stop the smirk from playing at his lips.

"It's alright to admit that you want me too, Granger," he said in a low, purring voice.

"Is it? I feel like, by having feelings for _you,_ and acting on them, I'm somehow betraying Ron."

Draco just managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes in frustration at how annoying the orange git was. He wasn't even here and he was getting in their way.

"But you just said yourself that you don't feel this way about him, like you do about _us,_ " he argued, holding onto her hand again and squeezing it a little to get his point across.

"I don't…I've _never_ felt like this before. Draco…you saved my life, and every moment since then you've behaved with more kindness and acceptance towards me than anyone else ever has," he felt his chest swell up at her words, and he started to stroke his thumb across her knuckles again to encourage her to continue, "You actually care about my interests and what I have to say! Usually people, and Ron in particular, just ignore me or try to convince me I should talk about quidditch instead! It's so ridiculous that the one boy who used to denigrate and insult me more than anyone else at school is now the only one who actually listens and understands!"

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that in our younger years…"

Hermione just waved a hand in dismissal of his apology.

"We were both different people back then. It doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say…poorly… is that I feel a spark with you that's unlike anything else I've felt before."

Draco smiled and linked his fingers through hers tighter, wriggling a bit closer on the bed towards her.

"Hermione, listen to me. You can't just turn away from this if it makes you feel so much more than you do with that freckled git. If you really do want me like I want you, then that's all that matters. So what's really stopping you?"

She bit her bottom lip again and shrugged slightly.

"I guess nothing. I'm just afraid that someone will get hurt. Probably Ron. I know his feelings for me are stronger than maybe mine are for him. But also in school you weren't exactly known for your ability to have one girl at a time. You were always wooing about ten at once. What if _I_ get hurt?"

Draco nodded in understanding. He wasn't surprised she felt that way. It was a carefully designed image that he had cultivated over many years at school. He certainly hadn't been a womaniser or slept around a lot, but he was a Slytherin. And flirting with girls just enough to seem available opened a lot of doors. He was wealthy and good looking after all, and cunning as all Slytherins naturally were. And it did lead to quite a distinctive reputation. But in those last few months between the vanishing cabinet and his burgeoning feelings for Granger he had barely registered the presence of any other girls let alone been paying them any attention.

"Hermione, believe me when I say that you would not just be another notch on my bedpost."

"What would I be then?"

He swallowed. She had been really brave so far, and he was cursing himself for not being able to work up just as much courage to admit his feelings to her. He wanted to. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't force them out no matter how hard he tried. His palms were getting sweaty, and he was sure she would notice them. Eventually Draco managed to pull himself together and meet her eye, trying to give her a solemn look.

"I care about you. A lot. It scares me how much I do."

Hermione nodded, but didn't reply. She was tapping her foot nervously as she observed him quietly. He continued, determined to convince her.

"Hermione, please believe me when I say you're not like any other girl I've ever known. You make me angry and frustrated and confused and happy and excited. But you also make me so curious to learn everything about you, from your favourite potions theories, to what makes you laugh, to what sounds you make when you experience pleasure."

Granger's blush went from a pretty pink to a deep red. He even saw her release a little shudder. Draco knew that she was starting to give in to him. She had slid a little closer to him on the mattress and one of her fingers was travelling indolently over the back of his hand. He tried to smile softly at her, tilting his head in a bit closer.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asked her a bit cheekily. Hermione blushed and nodded shyly. But then when he leaned in, she met him halfway, so he knew that she wanted the kiss just as much as he did.

Their lips met gently at first, but it quickly escalated. Draco had been thinking about this more and more the last few hours. He started kissed her fiercely, with unbridled passion. He quickly caressed his tongue over hers, and she reached up one hand to twine her fingers through his hair. He could feel her nails scrape over his scalp, and he released a low groan in the back of his throat. As their bodies moved closer to each other, Draco grabbed her on the hips and tugged her body forwards. Hermione let herself follow the momentum he set by allowing herself to be pulled up onto his lap.

It only took an awkward fumbling of their legs and she was straddling him. But their lips never parted. He didn't care that he was running out of air, he couldn't get enough of her taste. Hermione made a few of those tantalising little mewls again, and his skin crawled with desire to find out what else he would hear from her. Wanting to feel her closer, he wrapped his arms around her back and dragged her up his thighs. Draco emitted a blatant, animalistic groan against her lips as she came into contact with his cock, which was throbbing and strangled in the confines of his pants.

Hermione obviously felt it too, as she pulled her mouth away just enough to let out a ragged gasp. When Draco leant in to kiss her again, he felt her fingers tighten in his hair. But instead of pulling him closer, he felt the slight tug before she drew away. They sat there panting in a tangle of limbs for a few moments as Hermione swallowed before she was able to speak.

"Draco-" her voice was raspy and breathless, and he felt another jolt go straight down through his navel, "I'm not…I've never…"

Sensing her anxiety, Draco leaned back to look into her eyes, using his hands to sweep the wilder curls away from her face.

"What is it, Hermione? Tell me."

"I've never done anything like this before. I'm afraid."

Draco couldn't stop the satisfied smile from taking over his face. He wouldn't deny that it gave him a flutter of pleasure to know that she had not had any real experience with other boys. He didn't like the way the jealousy would eat at him when he imagined her with Krum or Weasley in the past. It was purely a caveman response, but he was honest enough to own up to it.

"It's okay," he said in a low, soothing voice as he used his touch to stroke her skin around her jaw and down her neck, "We can take it as slow as you want."

Hermione nodded gratefully and rested her forehead against his. Draco's heart was still pounding and he had to take a few deep, steadying breaths to gain control again. As he did he breathed in her scent, strong from holding her so close to him, with their bodies in the most sinfully exciting position. He loved the way the soft weight of her thighs cradled him. He drew her closer, his hands stroking up and down her back. Draco's gut swooped happily as he leaned in and placed a final chaste kiss on her mouth. He felt her lips stretch into a smile as she returned it gently.

"Really? You don't mind?"

"Of course not, princess."

He saw Hermione roll her eyes at the term of endearment, and he laughed as she smacked him. Then he leaned back and raised one eyebrow at her curiously.

"Does this mean we can't sleep here together anymore?"

Hermione smiled softly and pushed the hair back from his forehead.

"No I think that should be okay," she whispered.

Draco grinned. As they clambered off each other, he reached for his wand and transfigured their clothes into pyjamas. He quickly stored his mother's things in a cupboard and joined Granger under the covers.

They both lay on their sides watching each other for a while. Draco leaned wriggled forwards a little and placed another soft kiss on her lips.

"Does this mean I can't feel you up?" he murmured.

Hermione let out a surprised laugh. He loved the way the smile lit up her face this close to her. He could have counted the freckles scattered over her nose.

"You can feel me up a little bit-" she replied with a sly smile.

He snuggled deeper into the pillow as he gleefully raised one hand and ran it up over her hip, stroking the small slither of skin exposed. He saw Granger bite her lip and arch her back towards him.

"You're incorrigible," she said with a warm smile.

"Only a grindylow could lie here next to you and not want you," he replied, stroking his hand up her hip and over her ribcage.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not!" he protested, "You have no idea the effect you have on me. I want you all the bloody time."

She flushed again but managed to keep eye contact and not look away in embarrassment.

"Is that so?" she asked eventually.

"Mmmhhmm," he hummed in response, running the backs of his fingers down over her stomach now. He liked how soft she was. He hated girls who ate nothing but salads so that they could look and feel like a stick. Where was the fun in that? He loved the way Hermione's belly was just slightly rounded before her waist flared out into curvy, womanly hips.

"Draco," she whispered hoarsely, and he felt the shiver pass through her. Knowing that he would never get to sleep at this rate, since he was still rock hard, he quickly withdrew his hand and placed on last kiss on her bottom lip.

"Please don't date him," he muttered quietly, nudging his nose against hers and breathing in her scent deeply. He drew back very slowly to see her reaction, and noticed that she was observing him quite calmly. She didn't seem offended or upset, just understanding. She was silent for a very long time, and he saw her eyes flicker down to his lips once or twice. Finally she spoke.

"Okay," she whispered simply, with a slight shrug and a twitch of her lips. She didn't add anything else; no conditions or caveats. She just watched him with those open, honest brown eyes. He even saw the little glint of amusement when she noticed his smug reaction. He must have looked pretty damn pleased with himself. She chuckled a little bit and nudged his nose with hers to mirror his earlier actions.

"Go to sleep," she giggled softly.

With a cheeky grin, Draco lifted his arm and shifted them around until she could prop her head up on his shoulder. He pulled her closer and they embraced each other comfortably. Now that he was actually in bed, he realised he was actually exhausted. It had been an emotionally fraught day. It didn't take him long to drop off, with a gentle smile still lingering on his face.

...

 **Author's Note: Ok, so I know I've maintained that this is a Draco POV story, but is anyone interested in getting a one-off Hermione chapter at some point? Let me know! Please review.**


	18. Mirrored

**Mirrored**

 **Author's note: So here is a one-off surprise – a chapter from Hermione's point of view! This won't become a trend, I have committed to writing a Draco POV story, but I really wanted to give a short glimpse into her thoughts. As always, JKR is a member of the inquisitorial squad!**

 **...**

 _HG HG HG HG HG_

It was still very early when Hermione stood in the kitchen of the cottage, warming up the pan to cook some French Toast as the kettle boiled on the stove with a growing whisper. The weather was starting to warm up, and the snow around the countryside had melted. It was still a bit frosty this morning, but she had felt comfortable enough to forego getting rugged up when she woke. She was shuffling around the quaint little kitchen in her transfigured pyjamas; a close fitting t-shirt and loose cotton pants.

Hermione really loved this cottage. As the butter began to sizzle in the pan, she looked around the kitchen and into the living room. Everything had a classic country feel to it, but with all the modern comforts and style of a new home. It was almost as if the place had been designed specifically for her. All the books on the shelves appealed to her, there were even some of her favourite muggle novels scattered around, like Tolkien, C.S Lewis and even some dusty copies of Shakespeare that looked so old she wondered how early the editions were, and where Draco had found them. There were also some little feminine touches around the rooms, and in one corner of the living room overlooking the vegetable garden was a tiny piano. It had been years since she had learned when she was young, and she could only remember one or two simple pieces. On the surface the whole home seemed rustic and disorganised, but she had noticed a certain order to the chaos, and she loved the way the books spilled out from the shelves into small piles here and there. Hermione had found herself briefly considering in her weaker moments, that it was a bit too big a coincidence that Draco Malfoy just happened to have bought and furbished her dream home before he even really knew her. Then she would dismiss that thought as ridiculous.

As the toast browned in the pan, the smell of baking egg and butter filling her senses, Hermione sighed and turned her thoughts to the young man still asleep in the bed they had shared the last few nights. She couldn't stop the slight smile from toying at her lips. Draco had been a complete revelation to her these last weeks since he had rescued her from certain death at Malfoy manor. She couldn't believe that the boy who had been so malicious and cruel in her younger years of school was the same person she had come to know. She thought back to when she had first known him. As a first and second year student Draco had been a spoiled little brat. His first reaction had been to spit insults and whine about everything, but when push came to shove he was a greasy little coward. Harmless really. It wasn't until well after their first year that his behaviour took on a darker side. She knew now that a lot of that could be attributed to the pressure placed on him by his father, but that hadn't made his words sting any less at the time. He had seemed to genuinely look down on her and be disgusted by her muggle heritage. And while she was clever enough not to take it to heart, she couldn't deny the lasting ache of having someone belittle and degrade her in front of any peers who would listen.

Things had changed sometime in their later years. She wasn't sure when _he_ changed, but she had started to notice the difference in their sixth year. How could she _not_ pay attention to him when Harry was constantly obsessing over the blonde Slytherin? She had begun to recognize his presence more and more in the library near where she studied. He had obviously been working really hard too, with his head buried in new books every day. Which was strange, because his grades overall had been slipping. It wasn't until after everything went down that she had realised that he was researching ways to fix that damn vanishing cabinet. But while Harry had been focused on his 'Malfoy is an evil death eater' theory, Hermione had noticed other signs. He always seemed tired, with dark purplish rings under his eyes. And where he used to wear his hair slicked back elegantly, he seemed to spend less time on personal grooming as it became slightly more ruffled, which ironically only made him look more ruggedly handsome. Of course the girls at school had chased after him like crazy that year, but Hermione couldn't help noticing that he didn't seem to pay them as much attention as he had in previous years. And he didn't spend any time with Crabbe or Goyle, in fact she almost thought one reason he came to the library was to get away from them.

Hermione had on more than one occasion felt like Draco had been watching her that year. She often got those little prickles on the back of her neck that told her someone was staring at her. And once or twice when she had raised her eyes she had caught his gaze. He had looked away quickly of course, but it had managed to creep her out nonetheless. She had just assumed at the time that he had been repulsed by having to share the library with a mudblood, and had been glaring at her trying to plot a way to put her in her place. Now of course, she wasn't so sure.

Only a few short months later he had risked his life to save hers.

Every assumption and belief she had held about Malfoy had been fractured that day at the manor. Of course all the usual suspicions had been running through her mind since then. Maybe he was just tricking her into thinking he had saved her so she'd lead him to Harry. Or maybe he was just trying to find a back up plan so that he'd be spared prison if Voldemort lost. But then she had started to actually get to know him. And he had completely pulled the rug out from under her.

It turned out that the real Draco Malfoy was actually kind, gentlemanly, fiercely protective, had a wicked sense of humour and was an intensely passionate human being. Every time he shared a little bit of himself with her, she was amazed at how he had grown into such a _good_ man despite all the horrible influences in his childhood that should have turned him into a villain. He had somehow overcome all the factors that would turn a lesser person into pure evil, and had earned her respect and affection.

Hermione blushed a little bit as she flipped the bread in the pan to brown the other side. She had been overwhelmed by how quickly she had become attracted to Draco. She had let it confuse her for a while, worried that she was just the proverbial damsel in distress and was attracted merely to her white knight, as she had suddenly started to notice how damn _sexy_ he was. She had always scoffed at other girls at Hogwarts for panting after Malfoy, but while he was helping her to heal with such gentleness she had finally seen what they saw; a devastatingly charming young man with an icy, ethereal beauty that was hard not to be drawn to.

But that initial illusion was quickly shattered, and her silly little crush withered and died. When he had returned to the cottage a broken mess from that Death Eater raid, her vision of him as a suspicious but still heroic boy vanished, to be replaced by a much more complex image of Draco Malfoy. She had been wrong to doubt his intentions, and wrong to see him as nothing more than a vain pureblood boy with cool good looks. That was when it had really started for her. Her silly little flutters of interest were gone only to be replaced by a deeper, more overpowering curiosity. She didn't just think about kissing him and then going running back to Ron to start her life anymore. Now when she thought about him, she felt the very foundations of her beliefs splinter into a million pieces. He was a Death Eater, He had done truly terrible things. But she didn't care. She knew him. She knew the man the he was becoming, and she was in awe of his lively spirit and tender heart, especially considering the backdrop of his childhood. Her early feelings seemed silly now, compared to what had taken root in her heart in the weeks since.

And when they kissed…

Hermione bit into her bottom lip so hard she tasted a tiny droplet of blood drawn onto her tongue. She wanted to groan out loud just thinking about it. Those mind numbing kisses made her toes curl up with desire. She had been in real danger of just throwing herself at him and forgetting all about Ron and about their mission, and just letting herself get carried away for once. But that wasn't who she was. She owed it to herself and to Ron to at least go into this using the most rational part of her mind, and not be swayed by the constant throbbing of desire she felt when he touched her or gave her that cheeky smile. The truth was she really _liked_ Draco. And if the circumstances were different she could imagine them being so compatible with one another that the possibilities drove her mental.

There was just one big hurdle that was really bothering her still.

And surprisingly it wasn't the war, or their past, or his family, or even hurting Ron's feelings.

It was that she hadn't quite worked out where _he_ stood.

Draco had saved her life. He had nursed her back to health, given her a home – one that was bizarrely perfect for her – and he had even started to reveal his own desire for her. That last part wasn't the problem either. He had managed to convince her that he really did _want_ her. It was so patently clear in all his actions and his body's responses to her.

But there was something missing. He had sacrificed too much, given her too much, to make sense to her logical mind. Why would he do all this? She had accused him once of helping her only so that he could alleviate his own guilt, but he had vehemently denied that.

Until she had actually started to recover here at the cottage he had barely spoken a full sentence to her - without a jeering crowd watching them - for seven years. So there was no way he had liked her _before_ she arrived at the manor…was there? It was impossible. He had hated her for years. And if she accepted that he had already changed from the petty boy of his youth, then she supposed at the very most he had felt a passive sort of sympathy for her when he rescued her.

No matter how hard Hermione tried to figure out the puzzle that was Draco's feelings, she couldn't make it out. She supposed she could just ask him, but sometimes when she raised these kinds of issues he looked so much like a defensive little animal that she felt horrible for bringing it up.

With a little moan of frustration at the never-ending cycle of thoughts she kept turning over and over in her head, Hermione flipped the French toast out of the pan and onto two pretty blue plates. Honestly, what self-respecting bachelor had this kind of dainty, probably priceless, china in their kitchen? Especially as it was a set designed just perfectly in her favourite colours.

Hermione quickly set up two cups with tea bags to brew as well with the now boiling water. She loved that she knew exactly how Draco liked his tea, and that he knew some of her favourites too. She thought vaguely whether Ron would know anything about her tastes. If they sat at a restaurant together, would he be able to pick one single thing that she liked off the menu? Hermione knew it wasn't fair to compare the two boys; they were so completely different to each other it really wasn't a rational contest. Ron was a very loving and warm person who had strong morals at heart which allowed him to face up to his mistakes, but he could also be quite fickle and was extremely self-absorbed. And while Draco's morals were a bit unclear at times, as he had been given no compass to follow as a child, he was focused and intelligent, and could be intensely passionate. It was no contest really anyway. She knew deep down that she and Draco were just _so_ much more compatible than she had ever been with Ron. Ron would always resent her a little bit for her intelligence and successes. He didn't mean anything spiteful by it, he was just a very jealous person by nature. Draco just complemented her. And on a more basic level, she had never felt anything close to this level of chemistry or desire for Ron.

Hermione put the French toast and teacups onto a tray and crept through the living room and back into the bedroom.

Draco was still half-asleep; he was mumbling and shifting under the covers as he woke up but he wasn't fully lucid yet. He really did look adorable. After she had left he must have missed the warmth of her body because he had dragged her pillow down and curled his body around it. And his soft blonde hair was sticking out in all different directions, giving him an impish quality that made him look even sexier. Hermione blushed and averted her gaze as she placed the tray to balance on the small bedside stand.

"Hrm..ne?" he groaned as his head rose a little bit off his pillow to look at her through swollen, heavy lids.

"Morning," she murmured quietly, slipping onto the bed next to him and leaning back against the headboard.

"What smells so good?" he rumbled as he pushed himself to sit up next to her. He wasn't wearing a shirt, damn him, and Hermione had to bite her lip and focus on removing the tea bags as her cheeks heated up in response.

"I made some French toast," she said with probably too much cheerfulness for so early in the morning. She hastily pulled the plate over to sit between them, before handing him his cup of tea.

"Wow…this is fantastic," he said with awe, looking at her a bit more alert now as he gave her a lazy smile. He looked genuinely impressed.

"Oh come on," she snorted, blowing gently on her own steaming cup of tea, "you must have had servants bringing you breakfast in bed all the time when you were younger."

Draco smirked, that sinfully mischievous look he sometimes got when he was teasing her, and Hermione felt her heart race a bit.

"Actually my mother had a rule that the elves were only allowed to serve breakfast in the dining room. But the table was almost ten metres long, so often I wouldn't have to speak to her or father anyway."

She stared at him doubtfully for a while, trying to work out whether he was serious or not. But when he didn't even bat an eyelid or give her a cheeky grin, she figured her was telling the truth. Which was crazy.

"Poor Draco," she said with a playful smile of her own, "you really had no hope of growing into a normal boy, did you?"

"None at all," he replied as he began to munch on a piece of the toast. As they ate their food together, sipping gently at the scalding tea, Hermione observed the blonde next to her.

She was very conscious of the fact that they had now been sleeping together for almost a week. While they hadn't done anything more than kiss, he had seemed overly happy to lie next to her at night, seeking comfort in each other's presence. She personally found it very difficult. She was constantly conflicted by her desire to stay by his side and explore this new connection with him, and her growing need to return to her friends. And right now she was being incredibly selfish by staying.

There was no doubt about it; Harry needed her. He and Ron by themselves was a recipe for disaster; they were both too impulsive, and didn't think before they jumped into things. Hermione was different. She had tied herself to Harry completely by wiping her parents memories; unlike Ron she had no one else to come home to. So she had vowed to herself early on as the war approached that she would be willing to die for Harry. He was like a brother to her. When they had set off on their hunt for Horcruxes she knew that she might not make it. There was a good chance she would die fighting to protect Harry, which was another reason why she had modified her parents' memory. If she perished in this war, at least they wouldn't be hurt the loss of their only daughter to a world they didn't even understand.

As she wiped off the last few crumbs from breakfast, she saw Draco looking back at her with the same thoughtful, intense expression she sometimes caught him giving her. She had seen it in the library back at Hogwarts and when they were on their date in the village, and sometimes even when they were just eating dinner together or reading on the couch. It was a strange mixture of delight and agony. She couldn't quite put her finger on what he was thinking in those moments.

"Hermione-" he began hesitantly, "I have something I want to give you…but I'm not sure whether you'll feel comfortable with it."

Hermione's curiosity was piqued. She moved all the plates and cups out of the way, brushing a few crumbs away from the bedspread and wriggled closer to give him an encouraging nod.

"Okay,"

Draco quickly padded over to a cupboard and retrieved the bag of his mother's more precious possessions. Hermione swallowed a bit nervously, understanding how uncertain he must be to be handling her things again so soon. He reached into the bag and pulled out a long, thin wand. The wood was quite dark and it was carved into a beautiful, regal handle at the end that reminded her of a leafy design.

"It's…it _was_ my mother's," he paused for a moment as he got control of his trembling hand. Hermione frowned watching him, wondering what he was getting at here. "There's no point me holding onto it, and you need a wand. So I think you should take it."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. Her eyes flickered down to the beautiful wand and she couldn't believe what he was offering her. His mother's wand. She couldn't imagine how hard it must be for him to give it away to her.

"Draco," she began in a shaky voice, "I can't-"

"I want you to have it," he insisted in a quiet voice.

He raised his hand further for her to take it. Hermione reached out, her own hand trembling, and took hold of the hilt of the wand. While there wasn't the same rush of warmth she had felt the first time she held her own wand at Ollivander's, it did feel…accepting. It tingled a bit in her palm, but it wasn't aggressive or unpleasant. She knew this wand would work for her, even if not as comfortably as her old one.

"Draco, are you sure?" she asked, her eyes searching his, but he just smiled sadly and nodded, and there was no doubt or hesitation in his gaze. Hermione swallowed and looked back down at the wand. It felt amazing to be holding one again. She realised then that she had gone without a wand for too long. She felt powerful once more, like she was in control. Not having a wand these last few weeks had felt a bit like not having a limb.

And it opened up a whole realm of possibilities too. With a wand, she could start making moves to find Harry and Ron. She had some ideas for how to track them, but without a wand there'd been no chance.

Hermione felt a wave of guilt flood her, causing a cramping sensation to take hold in her gut. Finding Harry and Ron would mean leaving Draco. She glanced up at him from underneath her hair as she twirled the wand in her fingers. He was looking pleased, though she noticed his gaze had dropped somewhat to her tight pyjama t-shirt. Blushing she considered how upset he would be if she did leave. He had already panicked when she had brought it up once. She had accused him of holding onto her like an anchor for his atonement; his escape from being a Death Eater. Now she wasn't so sure. He seemed to genuinely care about her. But it wasn't enough of a reason to stay. She had a mission to complete and a duty to serve. She couldn't abandon Harry now. This wand held so many implications that it scared her and excited her all at once. And Draco probably had no idea. Judging by the relaxed, even happy expression on his face he had no inkling of the direction of her thoughts. Would he feel like she had betrayed him if she used his mother's wand to leave him?

"What's it made from?" she asked instead in a slightly croaky voice, trying to sound more cheerful than she was feeling.

"Oak, 8 ¾ inches, with a unicorn hair."

She nodded with interest and lifted it in the air. With a little smile to herself she silently cast _Wingardium Lev_ io _sa_ on the pillow next to her and watched happily as it floated up into the air. Draco chuckled and batted the pillow away from him.

"Show off," he said in a teasing voice.

Hermione giggled too, before dropping the spell and looking at him seriously.

"Draco…thank you so much," she said with a soft, meaningful smile. He leaned forward slightly, running his hand into her curly hair and tugging her forwards for a slow, almost chaste kiss. She shivered as she felt his cool lips press against hers. Merlin, he was a magnificent kisser. She wasn't sure if he'd had a lot of practice or if he was just a very passionate person, but when he kissed her she could feel it right down to her toes. As if he put his heart and soul into every single little peck and caress. As if his world was consumed by this one simple act.

After a moment he drew back and smiled at her again, and she returned it tentatively, still feeling that gnawing guilt eating away at her. Time was running out, and she felt like she wasn't done exploring these new feelings with him yet. But this was a war. It was bigger than just her. So as much as she would love to stay here in this cottage forever just getting to know this new Draco Malfoy who made her heart pound when he entered the room, it wasn't to be. And he had no idea that by giving her this wand, he had basically just given their time together an expiration date. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned in to rest her forehead against his, breathing in his heady scent.

She'd had a lot of horrible things happen to her in her short life as a witch.

But leaving Draco was going to be the hardest yet.

….

 **So this is all we'll hear from Hermione; back to Draco next chapter! Try not to worry too much about her leaving… there's a lot of complex things going on, and Draco never goes down without a fight.**

 **Please review – I'd love to hear what you thought of things from Hermione's perspective!**


	19. Interrupted

**Interrupted**

 **Author's Note: Welcome back to Draco's POV. I was so pleased that you all thought Hermione's one-time perspective added some insight to the story. We've had a lot of** ** _feelings_** **lately, so I think it's time for some plot! As always, JKR is the founder of Dumbledore's Army, of which we are all members.**

 **...**

Draco was humming tunelessly to himself as he brewed a pot of tea, making sure he made it just the way Hermione liked it. They had spent the day trying out a series of spells they had researched on her forearm, and were both very optimistic about the results. She had used his mother's wand quite comfortably for the day, and they had even made some progress with the nasty word that had been carved into her. It was still red and angry, raised up from the skin like a rope brand, but it no longer had splintered webs of veins and dark magic crawling out of it. It had been a horrendous scar, and Draco was so relieved that they had been able to make a difference to it so far. Hermione was by no means vain, but no young woman would be able to live happily with that kind of hate symbol on their arm where it would always remind them of their torture.

He re-entered the living room with the tea things, smiling softly as he saw Hermione twirling the new wand in her hand and observing it quietly. He hadn't been sure whether he should give it to her, but in the end he had known it was the right thing to do. She had been living in his home for a long time without a wand, and for a powerful witch like her it must have been very difficult. He also liked the idea of his mother's wand being put to use by someone who deserved it, and someone he loved. He hated the thought of it just sitting in a cupboard somewhere gathering dust.

"Here we go," he muttered placing the tea down on the coffee table. Hermione smiled softly at him, putting the wand away and helping herself to a biscuit from the plate he had brought.

"Mmm… thank you."

"So I was meaning to ask you," he began with a little smirk towards her, "what on earth possessed you to take Cormac McClaggen to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

He saw her swallow heavily and look at him with wide eyes and a pink tinge blossoming on her cheeks.

"How did you know about that?" she asked in a small voice. His smirk widened.

"I saw him mauling you under the mistletoe when Filch dragged me in."

Hermione's blush darkened and she looked down at the floor.

"I thought he was the most likely person to annoy Ron," she said in a reluctant, gruff voice, "But in my defence, he had been practically throwing that cow Lavender Brown in my face for weeks!"

Draco knew that deep down he felt a twinge of jealousy that she had been so concerned about making Ronald Weasley angry that she had kissed someone she despised, but all he could summon was a slightly hysterical laugh. When she glared at him he tried to stifle it, but only ended up laughing harder looking at her slightly repulsed expression.

"Oh come on," he teased, "You have to admit that's hard not to find amusing. I can still remember him following you around for days afterwards. He came into the library once and pretended to read near us, but he had picked up a book on women's menstrual health in potions… I hadn't laughed as hard as that for ages, it made my week!"

Hermione gave him a begrudging smile, which soon turned into a genuine grin as she was infected by his teasing humour. She shook her head with a giggle of her own.

"I asked him what he was researching and he looked down at the book, went completely pale and said _Cervical Strengthening Draughts_ – I think I almost wet myself," Hermione then mimed the expression on Cormac's face and they both erupted into more laughter.

"You sure know how to pick them," he drawled, taking a sip of his tea.

"I picked _you_ didn't I?" she asked with an innocent smile. Draco laughed again, secretly pleased to hear her admit, even if only through implication, that she had actively and consciously accepted that she liked him.

"I thought I just imprisoned you in my evil lair," he replied, giving her a cheeky wink and watching in amusement as she rolled her eyes.

"This is the worst evil Death Eater lair I've ever seen," she commented slyly, "It's full of _muggle_ books, a coffee machine, a television, a house elf who wears pink tutus and bosses you around, not to mention the scented candles…"

"Alright, alright," he whined with his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat, "I'm a terrible bad guy. I just like my captives to be comfortable."

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, and Draco grinned as he watched the soft brown curls bouncing around her cheeks. Eventually she calmed down and looked around the room. Her gaze was curious, and she had begun to bite her bottom lip in an expression that seemed to show uncertainty.

"Draco…this cottage…Tilly said you were quite specific with how you wanted to furnish it."

Draco grit his teeth together, annoyed that his own house elf seemed happy to betray all his secrets because of her hero worship for the curly haired Gryffindor.

"I wanted to make myself a home, a sort of safe haven away from all the Death Eater activity. I guess once I fell in love with my new coffee machine I wanted to start experimenting with other muggle items. Turns out they're pretty good at making cool stuff without magic. They've found different ways of creating things, and transforming things without any spells! It's impressive."

As he spoke, Hermione's eyes had widened more and more until she was staring at him with a look akin to shock.

"Wow," she breathed in response, "You're just full of surprises."

Draco smirked.

"You have no idea," he said with a wink. Hermione huffed and shook her head at him.

"Ok, well what about the books? Look over there – you have the complete works of Arthur Conan Doyle. And Lewis Carol, and James Joyce…" Draco could tell she was about to keep ranting without taking a breath so he held up a hand.

"I read an American muggle novel last year, and it got me hooked. I asked Tilly to find all the most renowned novels written by muggles and add them to my shelves."

Hermione frowned at him.

"Which novel was it?" she asked a little suspiciously. Draco felt a bit of a nervous flutter, wondering whether his answer would give away his secret.

"To Kill a Mockingbird," he murmured quietly.

Hermione stared intently at him, and he could tell what she was thinking. The only reason he had read that novel was because he had seen her reading it one day in the library. Draco remembered being concerned that she hadn't visited her usual desk for a day or two, so he had gone wandering around the shelves. He thought maybe she had been annoyed by the group of hyperactive third years who were studying for a big charms test nearby, and had moved. After creeping around the library for a short time he had eventually seen her curled up on one of the armchairs near a window, surrounded by the towering alcove of herbology texts. He had hung back a bit, peering at her from around a series of flora encyclopaedia as she sat there engrossed in her book. He had enjoyed watching her for a while; her hair draped over one shoulder in a thick braid, and tied at the end with a bright red Gryffindor ribbon. Then after a few minutes she had shifted and squirmed in the seat, settling back on the cushions and raising her book higher, just enough so that he could see the title. He had been intrigued by the look of anguish on her face as she read. He wondered what would make her look so intense; she had almost drawn blood from her bottom lip she was biting it so hard. So he had read it. He had read this muggle novel that explored the dangers of prejudice and the pity of human nature, and he had been amazed at the insight of these muggles. It had helped to chip away another layer of his own hatred and confusion from his youth. It had also drawn him inexorably closer to _her_ , even though she didn't realise it.

"That's strange…" Hermione started to say, frowning at him, and he knew that she was thinking along the same lines. He wasn't sure how much he could convince her to believe in coincidences.

Before he could chime in and try to direct her away from her suspicions, Draco felt a prickle of magic wash over his spine and he froze. He spent a few moments desperately trying to pinpoint what he was feeling, and when he did, he felt a wave of nausea and terror.

 _Fuck._

It was someone subverting his wards. The protections surrounding the cottage were still intact, but that little trickle of magic told him that someone had slipped past them, someone powerful enough to manipulate those wards to their benefit. He didn't know who it was, but somehow this person had managed to push their way almost right through and were nearly on the other side, ready to approach the house. The implications gripped him as he shot to his feet.

"Hermione-" he spun to her with wide eyes, his heart racing as he grabbed her shoulders. She looked at him in shock.

"What, are you-"

"You need to go hide right now."

He pulled her up from the couch and dragged her towards the bedroom even as she pulled back on his arm a bit.

"Draco, what's happening?"

He managed to get her close to the bathroom before she pulled her hand away from his stubbornly, waiting for him to answer her question. He spun towards her in frustration and waved his hand frantically towards the bathroom. They only had seconds before the intruder would come through the door.

"Someone is coming through the wards. They'll be here any second."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she breathed deeply, pushing past him and towards the bathroom.

"Who would come here?" she asked.

"I have no idea," he whispered quickly, "No one knows the location of this place; they're breaking through the wards without my consent as we speak."

He saw her brow crease in fright as she backed into the bathroom. She retrieved her new wand from a pocket of her jeans and cast a disillusionment spell on herself. Once she was no longer visible, Draco took a deep breath and raised his own wand as he re-entered the living room. He stood with his arm poised high, ready to hex whoever came through that door. He even did a quick tidy of the room with a few sloppy spells to hide that there was a second person here.

His mind was racing with possibilities for who it could be. Maybe Lucius had tracked him down, or one of the other disgusting members of their brethren, wanting to disrupt his peaceful life for their own sadistic reasons. Maybe it was the Dark Lord himself, displeased with Draco's lack of enthusiasm lately, since he hadn't voluntarily shown his face lately at meetings when his presence wasn't demanded. Or it could be the Order, Potter or Weasley pursuing Hermione, hunting down what had happened to their friend. A hundred ideas rushed through his mind. His heart pounded painfully with the nervous anticipation of who would break through his door and fracture the beautiful peace he had made here with Hermione. He was standing on the balls of his feet just waiting for the moment the door would be splintered and broken in by a spell, ready to storm into his isolated little home.

Which is why he was so surprised when whoever the mysterious intruder was knocked sharply on the door.

Draco froze in confusion. None of those people he had just considered would knock. In fact, he couldn't think of anyone who would rap against the entrance like that; with a sort of firm politeness. He crept cautiously towards the door, preparing to open it. He was put slightly at ease by the fact that whoever it was hadn't just barged in. It made him curious more than anything.

When he twisted the handle and creaked open the front door, he squinted for a moment as slithers of sunlight blinded him, before the dark, ominous figure materialised into view.

It was Severus Snape.

Draco stared at him in disbelief for a few moments, his heart racing. He said a silent plea that Hermione would stay in the bathroom. Snape was one of the rare wizards likely to perceive and see through a disillusionment charm. He didn't want to think about what might happen if she was caught here. What did the old potions master want anyway? Had he come at the Dark lord's bidding? Draco had never really been quite certain where his godfather's loyalties lay. Even after the sour wizard had murdered Headmaster Dumbledore on his behalf, he had always had that nagging feeling that Snape's heart just wasn't in it. He knew that he probably had the best poker face in the entire wizarding world, but Draco also knew with some degree of certainty that Snape simply wasn't like the other Death Eaters. He had always been, if not overtly demonstrative or compassionate, then very protective and empathetic of Draco's feelings both as a child and as an adolescent. And there had always been an enigmatic quality to him that hinted at something deeper beneath the spiteful surface.

"Snape," he finally said with a tight voice, his throat dry as he looked directly into the dark obsidian eyes of his godfather. Where once the other man had loomed over him, they were now roughly the same height, as Draco had grown tall and slender over the last couple of years.

"Draco," he nodded politely in return, before falling silent with a look of contemplation that gave Draco the feeling he was being examined. He quickly remembered to bolster his occlumency walls just in case the dark wizard decided to try any mind-reading tricks. He wouldn't put it past him. When Snape didn't say anything further or offer any reason for his presence, Draco sighed as he realised the older man was waiting for an invitation inside. Of course he had to comply, he didn't want to make him suspicious. He hoped Hermione had the good sense to stay completely hidden.

 _Who am I kidding,_ he thought wryly, _as if I need to worry about Granger's common sense._

In a slightly strained voice, he asked Snape to come in, stepping aside and allowing the wizard to sweep in, his cloak fluttering behind him in an all too familiar way. He oozed confidence and mystery, and it put Draco on edge again, his palms sweating at the very presence of the dangerous man.

"So…" he began awkwardly, not really sure what to say, but eventually settled on asking him with a casual drawl, "…you broke into my home."

Snape's eyes flickered quickly around the room before returning to Draco.

"It's not exactly what I expected from you, Draco," he said with a tiny frown that other people probably wouldn't have noticed, but Draco was well practiced in reading Snape's emotions. He just shrugged in response, trying to seem laid back and arrogant; his usual image.

"It's better than living with Lucius," he sneered, knowing that Snape already knew of his general contempt for his father. The elder Malfoy had been a source of mutual disgust for the two of them for a while now.

It seemed like the right thing to say, because Snape's shoulders relaxed minutely and he finally took a seat on the couch opposite Draco, folding his hands and placing them elegantly on one leg. His dour face took on an almost troubled expression then.

""Draco, he started with a dark scowl, "I have only recently heard of what happened to your mother," Draco felt his heart skip unpleasantly at the reminder. He hadn't been able to hold a funeral for his mother given the circumstances, so this overwhelming sense of grief that was stirred by other people's condolences had never been an issue. He looked to the side, staring at the wall instead of meeting the older man's eye as he continued to speak, "and I wanted to express my sincere regret that I did not do more to help her, knowing as I did the anguish and trauma she was facing."

Snape fell silent then, and Draco eventually worked up the courage to meet his cold stare right on. He wondered if he imagined the slight glint of sadness in his black eyes.

"There's nothing you could've done," he murmured awkwardly, and Snape nodded slowly.

"Nonetheless, I am sorry for your loss. Your mother was an intelligent, strong and fiercely protective woman in her prime."

His gut clenched a bit at the way Snape carefully added the words "in her prime" to remind them both how dark her last few months had become, and how it had warped her.

"So you hunted me down and broke through my wards just to give me your commiserations? That seems like an uncharacteristic move, even for someone who never valued my privacy."

Snape almost snorted at that, his lip twitching up at one side in a gesture of amusement.

"I will admit that I was curious about this place that you so frequently escape to, and which you have barely left in the last two months. Your absence has been noted."

Draco shuddered, hoping to Merlin that this didn't mean he was being asked to contribute more to the cause. He just wanted to remain the young rookie recruit with not much skill to offer, and leave it at that. If he did decide to kidnap Hermione and take her to Europe against her will, he wanted a decent start before they tried to hunt him down and disembowel him. And being known as a bit of a hermit would hopefully help to quash any suspicion about his absence when he truly was missing.

"Just noted?" he asked a bit nervously, trying not to let the anxiety seep into his forcedly casual tone, "or questioned?"

Snape pursed his lips, studying him with an air of one who could smell a rat about a mile away.

"Lucius was not pleased with how you left things at the manor. He has been hunting for your mother's jewels."

Draco felt a wave of savage pleasure seize him for a brief moment as he took satisfaction in the fact that he had gotten Tilly to rescue those items. It seemed his instincts had served him well in this case.

"He can go fuck himself, I don't owe him a damn thing."

Snape smirked a little, leaning forward in his seat.

"Temper, Draco. Don't worry, I saw what your anger did to him already. He never was good at healing spells, and his nose may not sit quite as straight as it used to ever again."

Draco grinned darkly, pleased that he had scarred his father in some way, though it would never make up for the psychological scarring that he had suffered at Lucius's hands. Snape raised an eyebrow wryly at him in response to his obvious pleasure at the idea of his father's permanent pain.

"So is my presence expected back at the manor?"

"By the Dark Lord? Or by your father?" Snape asked in reply.

Draco snorted softly, conveying his contempt for the latter.

"The Dark Lord."

Snape looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"You have not been mentioned by name. But you should know that he is rallying the Death Eaters for an upcoming fight. The Dark Lord believes that everything will come to a head soon."

Draco nodded, trying not to reveal the shake in his hands or the dryness of his mouth at the thought that he might have to get involved in a battle, and possibly be fighting for the wrong side.

"How's Hogwarts?" he asked, trying to change the subject so that he wouldn't be confronted by the harsh reality of his impending choice. Although this new topic was likely to be just as bad. But as he watched, he saw Snape blink tiredly a couple of times, taking in a deep breath, and it piqued Draco's curiosity.

"It is… still running, and that's the best thing I can say about it at the present time."

He seemed weary, as if it took all his energy just to think about the school. Draco frowned at him, and his godfather leaned back to observe him from under hooded lids.

"Do you miss it?" Snape asked a second later. Draco grimaced and gave a little shrug.

"Sometimes," he said, "but nothing on this earth could force me to go back this year. No offense to your skills as a Headmaster."

Snape almost smirked at that, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was clearly about to open his mouth to reply when his eyes flickered over to one side of the room where Draco had levitated the tea things hurriedly earlier. He saw Snape frown darkly, and his gut dropped as the older wizard began to look more closely around at the room. It seemed like minutes passed, but he knew it was only a few quick seconds before Snape returned his eyes to him. He looked distrustful and the tiredness had vanished from his black eyes in an instant.

"Draco…" he began in a low growl, rising to his feet with fists clenched.

"What's wrong?" Draco tried to ask nonchalantly, standing also.

Snape took a threatening step closer.

"Who's here?"

"What?"

He stepped closer again.

"When I arrived I didn't sense any other _marked_ ones here aside from the two of us. So who's here?"

Draco looked at him with wide eyes, trying to sound innocently surprised.

"No one. Why would you think someone's here?"

"Don't take me for a fool, Draco. You have tea prepared for two people, still steaming slightly from the pot, and the indentations on the couch and positioning of the books lying around all suggest that there is another presence in the house."

Draco swallowed a bit, pretending to look casual as he shrugged.

"Well Tilly's here of course," he drawled, cursing Snape internally. Of course the bloody spy would be able to spot the minutiae of Hermione's presence in the house.

"Don't test my patience," his godfather growled, "I know someone is here. A witch or wizard, judging by the books lying around."

Draco was frozen with indecision. He wasn't sure how to handle the situation. After watching Snape carefully for a moment, he decided to try one more lie, hoping the spy didn't quite live up to his reputation.

"Okay. Well Blaise was here earlier today…" he said as if it was the most obvious explanation in the world, trying to keep his tone calm, "that's probably what you're noticing. He stopped by for a chat."

Snape was silent for a while, glaring at him suspiciously. His gaze was piercing in its intensity, and Draco concentrated harder on his mental shields just in case. After about a minute, Snape slowly raised his wand in the air. Draco's heart thudded as his godfather spoke the spell he had been dreading.

" _Homenum Revelio,_ "

There was a rush of air and a couple of thuds, and the door to the bedroom swung open. There was nothing there. He had been terrified for a second that Hermione would have been pulled out from her hiding spot. Draco was sweating and his mind spun with ways that he could divert Snape's attention, ideas for getting him out of the house. He couldn't just hex him; Snape was one of the most powerful wizards he knew; he'd just trounce him in a split second.

"See? It must be leftover from Blaise…"

Snape shot him a furious look before turning back to the empty doorway with his wand still raised.

"Drop the disillusionment charm," the dark wizard snarled threateningly at the space in front of them.

Draco was watching in horror as he became aware of the slight shimmer of magic in the doorway. He stumbled forward a little, not sure what to do, his pulse racing in fear.

A couple of seconds passed, and then it happened. The space in the doorway bristled with refracted light as the disillusionment charm fell away, revealing Hermione standing there, her own wand gripped tightly in her hand. He saw Snape's eyes practically snap out of his head, his whole complexion turning from pale to chalk white in a split second.

" _You,_ " Snape growled in a hoarse voice, completely shocked by her appearance. The Gryffindor's eyes quickly darted over to Draco, and they shared a brief look of anxiety, before she turned the full force of her anger back on Snape.

"Yes," she spat in reply, "and don't you dare try to touch me or I swear I will hex your balls off before you can say _quidditch._ "

If the circumstances were different, Draco would have laughed at that. If they both survived this shock, he had to remind himself to talk to her about her threatening technique, because it was much more amusing than it was scary.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Snape shouted at Draco, and he flinched a little bit, trying to step sideways towards Hermione so he could stand between her and Snape's wand.

"Look, Snape, it's none of your damn business, so why don't you-"

"None of my business? Draco, you're a bloody Death Eater, just in case you've forgotten. So unless you're about to tell me that she's here as your prisoner, then we're all in a lot of trouble."

Draco and Hermione exchanged another look, and he stepped closer to her again. He wasn't sure exactly what to say. His godfather looked manic with anger, but he wasn't looking at Hermione with the usual disgust or contempt that you would see from a typical Death Eater. In fact, thinking back, Snape had never treated her as inferior. Annoying, yes, but never as someone lesser. Aside from his hatred of the students in general, he almost tolerated her. Draco took a deep breath, knowing that trusting his godfather might be a mistake, but he knew he couldn't lie convincingly and he was unlikely to win a fight, so he'd have to gamble with honesty and pray that Snape would be as compassionate as he remembered from when he was a boy.

"She's not here against her will," he finally admitted quietly.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at his admission, and Snape seemed shocked too, giving Draco a chance to finally take the last couple of steps to stand cautiously between the two of them. He faced Snape with his hands raised with palms out flat in a reassuring, pleading gesture.

"Tell me _everything_ ," the older man snapped impatiently, his wand still gripped with white knuckles, pointing straight at his heart now instead of Hermione's. Strangely enough, that helped to settle his nerves. He didn't think Snape would hex _him_ ; they had always had a very affectionate relationship, and he was relying on that fact to protect them both for now.

"When the trio were captured and taken to the manor, the boys were taken to the cellar where they were later rescued by Dobby, but Hermione had been kept in the drawing room, and she was left behind-" he started to explain, but Snape frowned and interrupted with a sneer.

"I thought Dobby came back for her. Lucius said-"

"He was wrong. I lied about that. It was Tilly, not Dobby who took her and brought her _here._ "

Snape's nostrils flared a little bit.

" _What? Why_ Draco, right in front of your father and Bellatrix… are you insane?"

Draco sighed. He felt Hermione shift from foot to foot behind him and he knew she had always been curious about that very same question.

"She was being tortured to within an inch of her life by Bellatrix. I knew that if it kept going…" Draco took a deep breath, not wanting to think about the condition that she had been in when they got her out, "I had to act fast to save her, and the opportunity came up to do it without anyone knowing. She has been staying here recovering ever since."

Snape was pale and twitchy trying to absorb all that information, and its consequences. Draco sighed and stepped towards his godfather.

"Come on, Severus. Don't you fucking give me that look! You're supposed to be the intelligent one! Do you really think I'm like all those other Death Eaters? Do you think that's really _me?_ "

Snape shook his head straight away, a look of certainty and almost pride in his gaze.

"No, I don't think that's you. You have never been your father's son. Much to his disgust."

Draco nodded in agreement. Lucius had often accused his mother of coddling her son,a nd making him grow up weak.

"However," Snape continued crisply, "there's a big difference between not wanting to torture people, and saving the life of a muggleborn you've hated since the day you met her. Not to mention risking your own life to do so."

Draco smirked slightly, remembering Hermione saying almost those exact same words to him weeks ago.

"Well I did. I saved her, and I've been protecting her ever since. And I will _keep_ protecting her," he added the last bit with a slightly threatening tone towards his godfather, "the real question is… what are _you_ going to do about it?"

Snape's eyes pierced right through him, the endless black stare making him shiver a bit even as he stood tall and let his body shield Hermione from him. The older man was silent for a very long time, before finally he spoke quietly, intently.

"So you two are…friends now?"

It was the last question that Draco would ever have expected from him. It seemed so out of character for Snape to ask something personal like that. His mouth dropped open a bit inelegantly as he looked at the dark haired man, feeling completely baffled.

"Uh…yes…I suppose we're…friends."

He sensed Hermione standing very close behind him, peering over his shoulder at Snape, just as puzzled by the question as him. He felt her hand touch his back gently in support and it allowed him to relax slightly. Snape's eyes traced over the two of them, before he narrowed them as if trying to work out a really difficult equation. He blinked a couple of time as his felt Snape's eyes bore into his own, and he realised what his godfather was silently requesting. It was risky, but he eventually nodded and opened up his mind just enough for them to touch each other's surface thoughts without going any deeper.

 _What's really going on, Draco?_ He felt the deep voice whisper in his mind and he shuddered at the unpleasant sensation. He could only get vague glimpses of Snape's emotions.

 _I already told you._

 _No you didn't. There's something missing._

Draco felt Hermione pressing harder into his back, obviously wondering what was going on as they stared at each other seemingly in silence. She touched her hand higher up his back between his shoulder blades, eliciting a small creeping shiver of pleasure.

Snape's stare sparked into a knowing look. Draco felt his heart thud as his godfather's eyes widened with total shock at his apparent revelation.

 _You're in love with her._

Draco blanched. Was he really so easy to read? Hermione hadn't been able to figure it out yet; at least he was pretty sure she hadn't. No wonder Snape was a master spy.

 _Yes,_ he eventually answered, simply and honestly.

Snape observed him for a few moments, his face still marred by a dark scowl of frustration and uncertainty.

 _How long?_

Draco flinched.

 _Does it matter…?_

 _How long?!_ Snape repeated, his voice echoing across their minds more severely.

 _About two and a half years,_ he admitted at last.

Snape wrenched himself back out of his mind then, leaving so quickly it made Draco's head spin dizzily. When he blinked back into awareness, he saw the wizard staring at him with something that looked like horror, and pity, and absolute desolation. Draco wasn't sure why the thought of him being in love with Hermione bothered Snape so much, but he was reacting very strangely.

"She's muggleborn," Snape murmured after a long pause, his voice quiet, but there was no malice or accusation in his tone. It was gentle, almost awed as he watched the two of them with something like understanding in his gaze. Draco frowned.

"Yes," he said slowly, hesitantly.

"And you…you're a Death Eater. How do you expect this to last?"

Okay, this time he definitely sounded more accusing. As if he didn't trust Draco to be able to handle it. As if he was a danger to them both.

"This is not the life I would have chosen for myself," he muttered, his face flushing a bit red, before he turned his own angry gaze back on Snape.

"And what about you? Are you going to turn me in?"

Snape sighed and started to pace back and forth across the living room. At least he had pocketed his wand. He huffed out a breath and turned back to Draco.

"Of course I'm not going to betray you, Draco, you're my godson. I can give you my word."

Draco sighed with relief.

"Thank you, Severus."

Hermione stepped up next to him, her hand linking through his and squeezing.

"How do we know you would keep your word?" she asked softly, encouragingly. Her tone surprised him. Now that the initial shock of his intrusion had faded, she seemed strangely calm. As soon as she had spoken, Snape turned his gaze on her for the first time in the last ten minutes. He had been so focused on Draco, and now he really looked at the curly haired witch beside him with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You are hardly likely to trust any promises I make," he murmured softly, and Hermione frowned at him, her lips pursing in that expression he knew so well. It was the look she got when she was unravelling a complex problem.

"You might be surprised."

"Why would you believe me?" he asked harshly, and Draco felt Hermione's hand clench his tighter. She still had that determined little pout on her face. He took a deep breath and watched her, as she looked their old potions professor up and down. If she had looked at _him_ like that he would have shuddered with anxiety. He wondered why she seemed so comfortable standing there in the same room as Snape. Despite her initial fear, she had quickly let her body relax and accept the wizard's presence in the cottage without the terror he would have expected from her. He waited with bated breath as she seemed to reach some kind of resolution. Her eyes quickly flicked to his with the briefest twitch of a smile before she returned her gaze to Snape.

"Because I don't think you chose this either. I think Dumbledore _wanted_ you to kill him. And I think you're still loyal to the Order."

 _…_

 _…_

 _Oh shit._

 **…**

 **Ok guys, thanks for following. What did you think of our mystery intruder? This might complicate things for Draco! Please leave all your fantastic reviews, I love reading them!**


	20. Advised

**Advised**

 **Author's Note: Sorry about the cliff-hanger, everyone. Things are going to get semi-solved here, and we will finally establish some direction for the next part of the story. Thanks for sticking with me; I'm having a lot of fun writing it! As always JKR is the seven-time winner of the Witch Weekly Best Book Award!**

 **...**

You could have cut through the tension in the room with a knife. Draco was staring at Hermione in complete shock as she watched Snape with a level of intensity that made him shiver. She looked determined, and he knew that she could be like a dog with a bone when she caught onto something. She was so stubborn. Draco knew that his godfather was one of the most dangerous wizards alive, but he wondered curiously whether he could stand up to the 'insufferable' Hermione Granger when she was onto something.

"Say that again," Snape snarled threateningly, his eyes glinting in warning. Hermione didn't back down, if anything she seemed to stand taller as she squeezed Draco's hand even more tightly.

"You didn't betray us like everyone thinks. You're still loyal."

Draco shook his head in confusion, frowning intently between the two of them.

"Wait… what makes you think he's on the Order's side? He killed…uh…"

He choked a bit on the words, and trailed off. Hermione shot him a sympathetic look when it became clear that he was so troubled by his involvement in that fiasco that he couldn't even speak about it.

"It just didn't add up to me. It never did. Dumbledore trusted you," she said quietly to Snape, her voice firm and sure, "and it would be absurd for you to spend years dedicated to protecting Harry only to turn on us then."

Snape paced furiously back and forth across the hearth, his expression thunderous.

"You think you're so clever, Miss Granger, that you're superior to all the much more experienced witches and wizards around you. You might be a know-it-all little swot, but you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't speak to her like that," Draco interrupted angrily, but Snape just shot him a dismissive, exasperated look.

"Is your trust in Dumbledore so blind that you would believe anything he told you?" Snape growled, but Hermione just shook her head stubbornly.

"Don't mistake me for the kind of bleeding heart Gryffindor you despise. My reasoning is not emotional, it's logical."

" _Logic_ should tell you that I'm a Death Eater, you foolish girl. I betrayed you all."

"Then why didn't you kill me the moment I appeared?"

"Maybe I'm just biding my time."

She made a scoffing sound.

"I hope you lie better than that to You-Know-Who."

"Your precious logic is nothing more than ignorance," he muttered furiously, "You're in denial, and despite all the evidence you're clinging to the words of a dead man." Snape was practically spitting from the mouth, and Hermione pursed her lips into a frustrated scowl. Draco understood that look only too well. It could be very tiring arguing with his godfather. The man was a cold bastard at the best of times, and he was also fiercely intelligent, which was a dangerous combination. But damn if she didn't look just as determined.

"Actually, _logic_ tells me that Dumbledore had his arm cursed by an artefact of dark magic. And I can make an educated guess exactly what it was, and even why he tampered with it in the first place," Snape had opened his mouth to interrupt, but suddenly snapped it close with a wide eyed look of panic, letting her continue, "It tells me that you vowed to help him die on his own terms in a way that would enhance your position as spy. That you were fulfilling more than one unbreakable vow, and therefore it must have been Dumbledore's plan all along. And it tells me that you are intending to continue helping us. Am I close?"

Snape looked shocked, which was frankly an expression that Draco had never seen him wearing before. As for what Hermione had claimed, he felt a creeping awareness settle over him that the pieces of the puzzle fit together at last. His confusion about Snape's loyalties crystallised until he could see his godfather for who he really was. A troubled, decidedly unpleasant man who was trying desperately to do the right thing no matter the personal cost. He was the best Occlumens in the wizarding world. If anyone could trick Voldemort, then it was Snape. But Draco was blown away by the revelation that Snape could have been lying to the Dark lord this entire time. Damnit, but the man had balls. It could be the single bravest act that had ever been done in this war or any other previous war in the wizarding community.

"Severus," Draco asked with a touch of awe in his voice, "Is this true? Have you been on their side all along?"

Snape was completely silent. He had paused in his pacing to lean wearily against the mantel of the fireplace. His face was shrouded by the curtain of greasy black hair, hiding his expression from them. But Draco could see the clenching of his fists into white knuckles and the slight twitching of the leg where he had once had his knee chewed on by a three-headed cerberus. These were two of his tells, not that many other people would notice the small gestures.

"Severus?" Draco repeated, stepping forwards away from Hermione to approach his godfather.

" _Fucking hell…_ she's…not wrong," Snape finally said in a tight voice, turning to stare at them both again. It seemed almost as if a weight came off his shoulders then, as he stood more upright, more poised, and the muscles in his face had relaxed minutely. Draco looked at him curiously; it was as if he were relieved to finally share his terrible secret with others. It was very telling that he wasn't even able to admit that she was _right_ , he could only say she was not wrong.

"That's…completely insane," Draco finally said in a hushed, almost disbelieving voice, "How did you trick him all this time?"

Snape gave him a level, penetrating stare, his eyes flicking over to Hermione and back in a meaningful look.

"Exactly the same way you did. I shielded. I've kept my emotions buried for longer than you've been alive."

Draco imagined what it would be like trying to hide his feelings for Granger for years and years using heavy, impenetrable layers of occlumency. It would surely drive him insane. It just showed how strong Snape was; he was a stalwart of discipline, even if others didn't always see him that way.

"Professor, when Dumbledore pleaded with you on the astronomy tower, he was asking you to follow through with your vow," Hermione pressed quietly. It was a statement, not a question, but Snape still nodded slowly, cautiously in assent of her words.

"Yes."

"And no one knows?" she asked tentatively.

After a long pause, Snape gave them a slight frown and nodded.

"No one. God damnit, I should have known you'd be the thorn in my side, Miss Granger, just waiting to fuck everything up. You never did know when to get your nose out of other people's business."

Draco was still trying to come to terms with what Hermione had revealed. He was thinking back over his godfather's actions from the past few months, the last year even, and considering his behaviour from this new perspective. Despite his doubts about Snape's personal feelings, Draco had genuinely believed that by killing Dumbeldore, the other man had passed the point of no return in committing himself to the Death Eaters' agenda. To find out that it had been a plan all along, devised by Dumbledore himself, was a lot to absorb. He clearly remembered Snape cornering him after Slughorn's Christmas party and offering to help him. Obviously this had been a ruse to help determine his strategy and refine theirs. The thought bothered him for some reason.

"So…you _knew_ months before it happened that I would fail to kill the headmaster?"

Hermione turned her gaze on him with her wide brown eyes, and she pursed her lips in sympathy as she saw how upset he was. Draco felt a slither of embarrassment. He didn't like talking about his task for Voldemort in front of her. He felt unworthy of her. He should have found another way, or resisted the Dark Lord's threats somehow, rather than persist with his task. He worried that on some level she might never forgive him for his actions that year. Snape, however, gave him a more penetrating, challenging stare.

"You are not a murderer Draco."

"So your offer to help me…?"

Snape nodded curtly.

"Was to help you personally, not help you fulfil the task. You just didn't realise it at the time."

Hermione cleared her voice and reached out to link her fingers with his again. He liked the feel of her warm hand wrapped around his cold one.

"Harry said that you wouldn't have done it. He said you lowered your wand."

Draco blinked a couple of times when he felt his eyes prick. He looked away, his fringe flopping down a bit to cover his eyes.

"I couldn't… I was a coward."

Hermione stepped forward, closer into his line of sight. She clearly didn't care that Snape was standing there watching them. She touched his chin with her other hand and raised his face so that they were looking into each other's eyes.

"No, Draco! A coward would have killed him, because it would have been easier than facing You-Know-Who's wrath. A coward would have just let me die at the manor, knowing that the risk was too great." she said the last part fairly quietly, her eyes flicking over to Snape apprehensively. Maybe she was self-conscious about what he thought of their romantic attachment. She seemed resolved though, and even with the older wizard there, she still took the time to let her fingers linger on his jaw in a show of comfort.

"What do you plan to do now?" Snape asked, studying his fingers closely, probably uncomfortable with Hermione's display of affection.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Hermione look at him curiously, probably very curious of the answer herself.

"I don't know," he said honestly, "Now that I know you aren't…well, it helps I suppose. I won't reveal your secret of course. I never wanted to be a part of this. But If I were to try and leave the fold now…" his voice trailed off at the end as he shared a dark look with Snape. The older man nodded and leaned against the back of one of the couches.

"You would be hunted down. No one has ever fled successfully before."

Draco sighed and mimicked Snape's position on the opposite couch, while Hermione frowned at them both from where she stood, her face a picture of confusion.

"What he did to Karkaroff-" Draco started, before he paused with a shiver. That had been one of his earliest experiences of the Death Eaters that had left him disillusioned and disgusted with the whole organisation. He could vividly recall the sight of the Durmstrang Headmaster flayed and skinned alive by some of the most sadistic members of the inner circle. The sound of the man's screams still haunted him; they had lasted for hours before he had finally been able to fall unconscious as he grew resistant to the charms that had been forcefully keeping him alert. Hermione's frown deepened as she looked between them.

"The Order could protect you-" she began, but Snape interrupted quickly.

" _No_ ," he growled angrily, his nostrils flaring, "the Order is not capable of that kind of protection. They have failed before, and I wouldn't trust them not to fail again."

Hermione's brows drew together in a crease, clearly thinking the same thing as Draco. That Snape had personal experience of this, and judging by his furious expression it still hurt him deeply enough to make him visibly upset at the memory. But while he was unsure of the specifics, Hermione seemed to think intently for a few moments before she nodded in understanding. It was clear that she accepted his reasoning, though what exactly it was, he wasn't aware of. Maybe there was someone who had died under these circumstances that they both knew.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, before turning his gaze on Draco in a way that left him feeling worried about what was coming.

"You cannot run, you would be in significantly more danger than you are now. However…an opportunity does present itself, now that I know with certainty where you stand, and you know where _I_ stand."

Draco swallowed. That didn't sound good.

"What?" he asked hesitantly, seeing that Hermione looked equally worried.

"I am in too deep now. Dumbledore has positioned me to be close to the Dark Lord's side for the final stage of his plan. But you… you could still be useful in spying for the Order."

"No," Hermione exclaimed vehemently, her voice leaving no doubt of her horror at this idea, "Absolutely not."

"His help could be invaluable for winning this war, he has more than enough ability as an Occlumens," Snape muttered quietly, with much more confidence than Draco had in himself.

He felt his palms get a bit sweaty as he gripped the back of the couch. Spy for the Order? He had never considered that as an option for himself. Possibly because it was totally insane. If he were discovered, then death would actually be the least of his problems.

"That's…Snape…I'm not involved enough to learn any useful information. I've been keeping my distance, trying to stay unnoticed."

"Exactly. You've been mostly forgotten now that Lucius is spending one hundred percent of his time kissing the Dark Lord's arse. Which means you won't be observed as much."

"But…I couldn't…" he stammered a bit, and Snape leaned closer towards him, his eyes wide and shining with intent.

"I'm not saying you need to do anything _yet_ … but there's a battle coming. Dumbledore was sure of it, and the Dark Lord has been preparing for it steadily this last month. Imagine the help you could give the Order and Potter if you were inside the enemy's camp."

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted, her voice shaking with terror, and Draco saw the anxiety, the fear written all over her face, "No, it's too dangerous."

"You should understand more than anyone, Miss Granger, how vital it is that Potter have all the support he can get for what's coming."

She was still shaking her head disbelievingly, and Draco couldn't quash the feeling of warmth that spread through him briefly as he saw the evidence right in front of him of how much she cared about him. She was literally terrified about him being put in danger. And while Draco couldn't give a shit about Potter personally, he had to admit that the idea held some temptation. Once the initial panic had faded he really thought about it. If he continued to feign loyalty, then maybe he could help the Order win the battle, which Hermione was sure to be involved with. It would increase the chance of her survival significantly. He was constantly plagued by the thought of her going off into the battle, and knowing there was little he could do to stop her. But if he fought alongside her – well, not so much by her side as opposite her – then he would be able to watch her, keep his eye on her. Stop her from doing anything too stupid and brave. And if the Death Eaters still won regardless, then he would be on the right side to ask for a favour from the Dark Lord to repay him for his service. Maybe he could barter for Hermione's life. They might let him keep her as a prize or something. So either way he would be in the perfect place to protect her.

"It's…actually not a bad idea," Draco finally said, giving Hermione a sheepish look. Her mouth dropped open and she gaped at him.

"Are you serious?" she asked, horrified, "They could kill you."

"Yes," he agreed, "but they could also kill _you_ , and yet that isn't stopping you from fighting for what you believe in."

She scowled at him, clearly frustrated because she was unable to think of any way to refute him for a few moments, which she must hate. After a very long lip bite, she eventually settled on an idea.

"This is completely different," she said with an edge of anger, "I'm not fighting as a double agent, so only _one_ side is trying to kill me – you might end up with _everyone_ trying to kill you."

At that moment Snape hissed a little and flinched, standing upright.

"I have to go, I'm being summoned," he growled, conjuring his mask and robe as he headed towards the door. His stride was hurried, but also revealed the weariness in his limbs. Draco shuddered at the thought of a summoning. He did not envy Snape his role in this war, to be constantly beckoned to the side of the violent madman you were trying to destroy, and unable to take direct action. He didn't have to imagine the horrors the older wizard faced, as he had seen enough to know that he never wanted to get more involved than he already was, not without suffering severe psychological trauma. It was amazing that Snape was still as sane as he was, if a bit of a bastard. As he watched his godfather stride towards the door, he realised that there was a certain weight lifted from him, as though he was suddenly able to breathe easier. Snape was one of the "good guys", even if no one knew it. He knew with a quiet certainty that they weren't being tricked or conned by the spy. He didn't fear being called in front of Voldemort because the potions master had betrayed him. It all made sense now. And strangely he felt like that made the two of them allies. They were both caught up between two sides of a war; wanting what was right, but fighting for the wrong. Which was what made him suddenly stand up straight and move towards the door as well.

"I'll walk out with you," Draco said quickly, darting a glance towards Hermione as he followed after his godfather. She just raised an eyebrow curiously and nodded in understanding as the two wizards disappeared outside.

They walked a few metres away from the cottage before the dark wizard spun around and clamped a hand on Draco's shoulder. He jumped a little, confronted with that penetrating black stare.

"You're playing with fire, Draco," he murmured with an edge of irritation in his voice. Draco swallowed and met Snape's eye evenly.

"So are you," he replied.

The spy blinked and his eyes darted to the cottage and back.

"I never could have believed you would fall in love with a muggleborn," he said with a small sneer, though it didn't really reach his eyes. Draco snorted.

"Neither could I."

"Does she…" Snape looked down in embarrassment and Draco was surprised to see a light blush creep over the man's cheeks. It was an altogether strange expression from the normally stoic man, "does she feel the same?"

Draco shuffled a bit on his feet. He wondered why Snape was asking him such a personal question. He seemed overly concerned about his feelings for Hermione. He cleared his throat.

"Uh…I don't know. I know she likes me, but only since she came here after I rescued her from the manor. I hope it becomes more."

Snape sighed and ran his long fingers through his hair.

"Draco, I know what you're thinking. You hope that if everything goes badly, you will still be able to keep her safe. That the Dark Lord will…give her to you as a reward."

Draco felt his heart thud painfully. Obviously Snape could read him too well, or he had first hand knowledge of this.

"Well…it's a possibility isn't it?"

"No," Snape released a breath and squeezed Draco's shoulders, his face betraying a hint of sadness, "No matter what he says, or how much you beg, you won't get what you want. Don't risk her life on the Dark Lord's empty promises."

Draco stared at his godfather with concern. It was quite apparent now that the man was talking from personal experience. He shivered at the thought of the gloomy, solitary man pining over a lost love; someone who had been killed by the very master he was still forced to serve. Another piece of the puzzle that was Severus Snape fell into place in his mind.

"Okay," Draco said with a nod of assurance, "I'll be careful."

Snape hissed again and flinched his arm back away from Draco.

"I really have to go," the man murmured, but before he turned away he shot Draco a sharp glare, "Draco, listen to me. You need to do the right thing by her. If you really love her, don't fuck it up. Don't let your pride ruin this."

Draco was stunned by Snape's words, and he couldn't help but wonder whether this also stemmed from the man's own past. Before he could say anything, Snape spun away, walking at a brisk pace towards the wards.

"I'll be in touch," he said over his shoulder. Draco watched him go with a worried frown. It was clear that there was a lot more to Snape than he had ever considered before. It left him feeling unsettled and anxious. He wished that there were more he could do for his godfather. He was the most isolated man Draco had ever known, seemingly cold-hearted but actually deeply troubled. But it was also apparent that his godfather cared about him. Much more than his own father ever had. He just hoped that Snape's cover stayed intact. The man deserved so much more from life than this constant peril and loneliness.

He took a deep breath in and turned back towards the cottage. He knew Hermione wasn't happy with the prospect of him spying, but the idea had sparked in his mind and wouldn't let go ever since Snape mentioned it. He knew they had a lot to talk about. He loved how worried she was. If she was terrified of him putting himself in danger, it meant that she had strong feelings for him, didn't it?

This wasn't over, but time was ticking for them, and he knew that if he wanted to make sure he was in the right position to protect her, he had to think and act fast. Snape was right, of course. He was definitely capable of royally fucking everything up with Hermione. But with this war coming to its inevitable climax, it was more important than ever to ensure her safety. He just wasn't sure if he could keep her safe and keep her affections at the same time.

...

 **Thanks for reading. Get ready for things to come to a head soon. The tension is rising and is going to snap sometime soon. I'm pretty excited. Please review, I really value all your wonderful feedback.**


	21. Reflected

**Author's Note: Hello all! I'm very sorry that this chapter took longer than usual. I had an unusually arduous week at work, and simply couldn't find the time to get this one going. Hopefully the next one is up a lot sooner though, so stay tuned! Thanks for your lovely reviews. As always, JKR is the Heir of Slytherin!**

 **...**

Two days had gone by since Snape visited them at the cottage. By some kind of mutual unspoken agreement, they hadn't discussed the older wizard's suggestion that Draco go into the spying business. But it was always simmering there under the surface of their interactions, creating tension between them. Hermione had been a bit distant since then, and he would often catch her frowning in his direction, as though she wasn't sure what to think about him. It was like they both expected the other one to just leave and run away at any minute. Hermione was worried that he would go back to Voldemort's side to gain new information, and Draco was worried that she would return to her friends. It was making them both walk on eggshells around each other. The only one in the house who seemed to be unfailingly optimistic was Tilly. She seemed excessively chirpy, especially now that she wasn't required to go back and forth between the cottage and the mansion. With Narcissa's death, the little elf had no more obligations there, so she was free to spend all her time with them at Draco's house. And just like him, she found it a haven of tranquillity and joy. She still got to do the cooking and cleaning which she loved, but she wasn't over-worked like a slave or bound to people's erratic orders. And of course she adored Hermione. The two of them were becoming closer each day, with Hermione learning more about the nature of house elves, and Tilly being given special projects like sewing pretty new clothes for the Gryffindor, who had lost all her old garments a long time ago now at the mansion. She had always had an eye for design and how to make simple, beautiful clothes that would complement people. All house elves were naturally concerned with the issue of clothes, but Tilly seemed to really take it in her stride. To her it wasn't like a ticket to freedom, or a dreaded symbol of dismissal and rejection. It was a way to show her affection and dedication to her Master and of course his esteemed guests.

Draco glanced over at Hermione from where he stood in the kitchen. She was sitting on the couch and reading a book on tracking charms. He grimaced. With all the new clothes Tilly had made, she had a full suitcase of things ready to leave – even though she kept it all in the tiniest bag he had ever seen, which she had transfigured from one of his old quilts. It obviously held a lot more than it seemed. When he had asked her about it, she had told him it was an undetectable extension charm, which was pretty advanced magic. Then she had mumbled something about a witch named Mary Popkins or something, who he assumed was supposed to be a famous charms mistress even though he'd never heard of her.

And now she was reading up on spells to help her figure out where Potter and Weasley were. He gripped the edge of the counter with white knuckles. Their time was running out. And because of all the myriad problems they had endured recently, they had spent less and less quality time together this last week. Draco missed snuggling in bed with her in the evenings, and their light-hearted banter, and of course the feeling of kissing her and making her whimper with desire. He didn't like the idea of her returning to the side of Ron Weasley and giving them a chance to reconnect. Once she was reminded of that crush she had on the ginger from when they were at school, she might feel like it was her duty to stay with him. After all, it would be so much easier to date a Weasley than a Malfoy. There would be no stigma, no fighting with friends, or battling the legal implications. It would be a hell of a lot less complicated. He knew Hermione wasn't a shallow person, but she did like to do the right thing. And with enough pressure from all her friends, she might decide that the right thing was to be loyal to the red head instead of leaving him for the evil Death Eater.

Draco sighed. He didn't like being kept in this state of uncertainty. He watched Hermione for a few moments longer, smiling slightly as he saw the way she chewed on her bottom lip in such focused concentration, as if the world around her simply didn't exist. Releasing a deep breath, he put the last of the clean dishes away in the cupboard and wiped his hands on his pants, making his way into the living room. He had to clear his throat a couple of times, but eventually she looked up at him. He tried to ignore the way her smile seemed a little forced, as if she felt guilty reading a book on tracking charms right under his nose. She was smart enough to know how he felt about her studying ways to leave him.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting close to her. He was pleased when she closed her book and put it to one side, clearly wanting to give him her full attention.

"Hey," she replied with a shy little smirk.

Draco watched her for a second, thinking about all the things he wanted to say to her. He reached up and ran a hand down the braid that was draped over one of her shoulders. A few curls were wrapped around the outside of it, fighting to escape the tight knot it had been wrestled into.

"I think we should talk," he said quietly, and Hermione sighed and nodded in response.

"I agree. Professor Snape really confused us both…"

Draco chuckled.

"You don't have to keep calling him _professor,_ you know. Little swot."

Hermione frowned at him, but it lacked any severity.

"It's different for you, he's your godfather! He still kinda frightens the crap out of me."

"Well it didn't show. You stood up to him better than I've seen anyone do for a long time."

"Yeh, well my heart was pounding. He's a scary man."

"Agreed."

Hermione smiled and shifted a little closer to him on the couch.

"But is he a _good_ man? Can we trust him?"

Draco frowned.

"You said yourself that he's on the Order's side."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean he won't throw you to the wolves to protect his own cover."

Draco considered it for a moment. If the only way for Severus to keep his role at Voldemort's side intact were to turn him in, would the older wizard do it? Despite all the logical reasons why he _would_ , Draco just knew deep down that it wasn't a possibility.

"No," he said, his voice sure and firm, "He won't do that. I have more faith in him than he has in me, I think. I've disappointed him too many times."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"You want to make him proud," she said. It was a statement, not a question, and she took a shaky breath as she continued, "You want to make up for your past behaviour towards him."

Draco ran a hand slowly through his blonde hair.

"Not just him, Hermione. I have a lot to make amends for. Ever since Snape suggested it, the idea has burrowed deeper and deeper in my mind. I want my godfather and my mother, Dumbledore, even some of my friends to be proud of me, but I especially want _you_ to be proud of me. I don't want to be known as the cowardly little prat I was in my youth. This is my chance to do something _good_ for once. A legacy that isn't just measured in how many millions of galleons I have."

Hermione leaned in and took his hand gently between hers.

"Draco, I already think you're very brave, just for being who you are. You could have so easily become what your father wanted you to be. But you didn't. You held onto your values even though they conflicted with what was expected of you. And that takes really guts."

"It's not enough though, is it?" He returned the grip on her hand tightly, looking at her with a meaningful gaze, "Hermione, I want to be with you. Not just here in this cottage isolated from the rest of the world, but for real. And I don't feel that I'm… _worthy_ of you."

"That's not true-" she started to protest, but he didn't let her finish.

"Yes, it is. You accused me once of being weak for not fighting for what I believed in. Well now I believe in _you._ I want to help you."

Hermione stared at him with those endless brown eyes of hers that seemed to glow with an emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on. It might have been sadness, or joy or pity, but he was hoping it was pride. That meant he was already on his way to fulfilling his goal. After a while she blinked and looked away, and he realised her eyes were glistening just a little with unshed tears.

"Draco… I'm not used to people even listening to what I say, let alone caring about what I think. I'm just the brainiac who people ignore because they don't want me to spoil their fun."

Draco felt his heart clench painfully at hearing her say this so softly and with such a weight of insecurity around her. He loved how confident Hermione was, but there was this vulnerability underneath all that, because she had had to work so hard to make friends and then keep them. It was so vile that she hadn't really had people around her who appreciated how special she was.

"I know," he said quietly, "I hope to change that misconception."

He saw Hermione's lips twitch a bit, and he smirked at her until she finally gave in and let a smile light up her face. She gripped his hand a little tighter and leaned closer to place a soft, chaste peck on his lips. He sighed at her sweet, moist cupids bow pressing into him, but before he could really return it, she pulled back.

"Okay," she murmured, "I think you should do it," her eyes were wide and still a little shiny, but she was smiling softly.

"Really?"

"Yeh. I'm probably going to have a heart attack worrying about you, but I understand why you want to do it. I can hardly criticize you for putting your life in danger, when I'm quite willing to do the same."

Draco sighed.

"Don't even get me started on that. I'm never going to be happy with you risking your life."

Hermione smirked.

"I know."

Draco ran a hand through his already messy hair, a few strands falling in front of his eyes.

"So this is really happening," he said with a shaky smile and a chuckle.

"I suppose," she responded quietly, "At least now we know we're fighting on the same side, instead of opposing sides."

Draco gave a more genuine laugh this time.

"Well that's a bonus. I'd hate to be your enemy."

"Again, you mean?"

Draco leaned forwards with a cheeky smile.

"Sometimes I can still feel the tingling in my cheek from where you slapped me in third year."

Hermione blushed, raising her hands to cover her mouth as she shook her head.

"Oh Merlin, that's so embarrassing. I've never lost control like that in my entire life before or since. I was really ashamed of myself."

Draco shrugged one shoulder casually.

"I deserved it," he quipped, making her chuckle.

"Well yes, but that doesn't mean I'm happy with my own actions."

Draco leaned in a little closer, tugging on her braid again.

"I thought it was sexy."

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"You did not!" she gasped, making him smile even more mischievously at her adorable expression of disbelief, "You hated me!"

He shook his head.

"I didn't know how to deal with it at the time, but it definitely caused some unpleasant tingles that I had to studiously ignore."

Hermione stared at him incredulously for a few moments.

"You're pulling my leg," she said at last.

"Sadly, no. I was fourteen years old and got slapped with an open hand by an attractive girl. I'd have to be an inferi not to get a little bit aroused."

Hermione broke off into a peel of giggles. Her head flopped back to rest on the back of the couch as she shook with laughter. Draco smirked as he watched her. He let himself be mesmerised for a while by her soft, tinkling laugh, before he heard a tapping at the nearby window.

Looking over, he saw a regal looking black owl perched on the sill. It was holding a small slip of parchment in its beak and waiting patiently to be seen to. It had a distinctive brown marking around its eye. Draco frowned.

"Huh…that's strange…" he murmured, and Hermione's laughter died down a bit to study the owl herself. She looked at him quizzically.

"Whose is it?"

Instead of answering her he stood and moved towards the window, unlatching it slowly and taking the parchment from the owl with a cautious hand. The bird didn't move a muscle. It also didn't seem impatient or agitated at all. It was very well trained, a beautiful and intelligent creature. Of course its owner had taken great pains with it; he was a perfectionist after all.

"Draco?" he heard her slightly bossy voice behind him and he couldn't prevent the little quirk of his lips. She didn't like being ignored.

"It belongs to Blaise Zabini," he said in a low, hesitant voice, returning to the couch with the parchment clutched in his fingers.

"Oh," she sighed with a touch of anxiety, "is that bad?"

He glared down at the paper a bit, as if it were personally responsible for making him so nervous. Maybe if he stared hard enough he could burn a hole right through it and not have to deal with his old friend. Instead he just sighed.

"Not exactly," he said slowly, his eyes flicking up to Hermione's and he saw the concern etched across her features, so he gave her a soft smile. "He's no Death Eater, don't worry. We just haven't spoken for about a year."

"He's your friend," she replied in a hushed voice, and although it wasn't a question, he senses the confusion in her voice.

"He _was_ my friend. We had a falling out sometime towards the middle of our sixth year."

"What about?" she asked curiously.

"Blaise is a Slytherin through and through. He's more cunning than I am. And ambitious to a fault. But he's no supporter of the Dark Lord. He despises violence and the Death Eater's supremacist ideology." Hermione's eyes widened, but before she could interrupt he continued, "and he didn't like what I was trying to do that year. He tried a few times to persuade me to give myself in. I was…scared. Terrified, actually, about what that could mean for me and my mother. So I shouted at him. Called him a blood traitor. We never quite recovered from that. Last I heard he was living in Italy with his mother and her new husband to avoid getting … _recruited,_ so to speak."

Hermione bit into her bottom lip hard, looking at him with something akin to surprise. Maybe she had never thought about all the different types of personalities in Slytherin house. He knew that her precious Potter considered them all to be nothing but a bunch of Death Eaters. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. No one ever appreciated how hard it was for the students in his house. How difficult it was being treated as inferior by most of your teachers, and being seen with suspicion and distrust by those who were supposed to be your peers and educators. And then you had the Dark Lord and his followers actively trying to force you into their ranks. Many didn't have a choice like him. They were volunteered by a parent whether they wanted it or not. With no other place to turn, many of them succumbed, but there were still plenty who slipped through. Blaise had always been in a lucky position. His mother had no strong ties to any Death Eaters, despite one unfortunate marriage that had ended as soon as it began. And he wasn't really rich enough or powerful enough to draw attention. In public he was very quiet, shy even, and kept to himself. He was fiercely intelligent, loyal, and had a lot of common sense that had kept him out of trouble so far. But Draco honestly thought his old friend had given up on him. He had said and done some terrible things. And he knew that in order to stay out of this war, Blaise was unlikely to contact him for fear of being pulled back into the old Slytherin influences.

"You think he's going to try to convince you to turn again?" Hermione spoke the words so softly he almost didn't hear them. He turned to her curiously. Her eyes were wide, but knowing. Maybe she wasn't as prejudiced and dogmatic as her two moronic friends often acted. She didn't look worried or doubtful about Blaise at all. Just concerned about how he felt about it. Once again her maturity and compassion astounded him.

"Maybe," he said with a little shrug of the shoulders.

"There's only one way to find out," she suggested, giving him a soft smile and nodding down at the letter.

Draco grimaced and opened up the parchment with shaky fingers. He looked down at the blank space for a few moments, before smirking and reaching for his wand.

" _Amis Fortuna,_ " he whispered, tracing his wand over the parchment and smiling in recognition as Blaise's neat, loopy scroll appeared in ink.

"Lucky friends," Hermione translated quietly, looking over his shoulder. He nodded silently and read the short sentence his friend had penned. He read it a few times to make sure he understood.

 ** _Open your wards. 9pm tonight._**

Draco's frown deepened. That was infuriatingly ambiguous. Just like Blaise.

"He knows where this house is?" Hermione asked.

Draco just nodded.

"I sent him a letter about it when I bought the place. In case anything happened to me. But he would know that without my explicit permission he wouldn't be able to enter."

She nodded, going quiet and waiting for him to get his bearings. Obviously he looked pensive enough that she knew to give him some space. He was thinking about the possible implications of the message. If he let Blaise in through the wards, then he would be putting both himself and Hermione in danger. He had no idea what had really happened to his friend in these last few months. For all he knew, Blaise could be a spy, or under the imperius or even just spoiling for a fight. Or he could want to help again, like he had offered all those months ago when Draco had spat it back in his face. Either way he was dying to find out. For a few years as he matured from the tiresome prick of his childhood into a somewhat decent young adult, Blaise had been a strong and dependable friend. He wondered vaguely whether Hermione was starting to have too much of an influence in him. It was possible he was just blindly seeing the good in people. But damnit, this was Blaise. He and Snape were the only two people in the world aside from Hermione now who were genuinely on his side.

Which led him to wonder whether it really was a coincidence that they had both contacted him so close together. Surely it wasn't just luck that they were both insinuating themselves into his private cottage in the space of a single week. If he didn't know any better, he would say Snape had a hand in this. But that seemed risky too.

Draco sighed, collapsing back on the couch and closing his eyes. He didn't know what to think.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked gently, sitting back next to him and leaning her head on his shoulder, nestled into the crook of his neck. He took a moment to breathe deeply and inhale the sweet, calming scent of her hair.

"I don't know. I don't want to put you in any danger."

His eyes were still closed, but he opened them immediately when he felt Hermione's soft lips pressing against the underside of his jaw.

"I know you don't. Do you trust him?"

Draco chuckled softly.

"You Gryffindors trust too easily."

"And you Slytherins don't trust enough!"

He smirked.

"We'll have to agree to disagree."

She peeked her head up from his shoulder, her brown eyes piercing right through him.

"And Blaise?" she prompted.

He huffed out a breath through his nose, ruffling some of the hair on the top of Hermione's head.

"I guess we let him in, and take precautions just in case."

She smiled sadly at him.

"You want to see him."

"Yes," he admitted huskily, "I just hope he doesn't make me regret it."

Hermione nodded, then reached over and grabbed a quill from the nearby table that was resting between the pages of a heavy book. She silently handed it to him, and he wrote the single word **_Yes_** on the bottom of the parchment with a flourish, before standing to give it to the owl that had waited calmly all this time. The black beast took flight with a dramatic beat of its wings and was soon a distant speck on the horizon.

Draco felt the warmth of a body behind him, and he shivered pleasantly as he felt Hermione's arms wrap around his waist, her forehead leaning against his back between his shoulder blades.

"If he's coming at nine, then we should have some early dinner and prepare," she murmured, her voice muffled as her lips were pressed into his back. He liked the way he could feel the warm pants of her air as she exhaled.

Unable to stop himself, he spun around, which forced her a step backwards. Not letting her back away, he gently ran his fingers over her jaw and into her hair, using the grip to tug her forwards so that their lips would meet. He pressed his mouth firmly to hers, moaning instantly at the taste of her. It was getting harder and harder to keep his promise to take things slowly with her, and he could tell she was tempted to throw out her request as well. In fact, with the momentum from tugging her towards him, she ended up pressing him back into the book shelves underneath the window. The evening light glowed around them as they kissed each other thoroughly. Draco drew back after a few moments, staring down at her with her lips, swollen from his exploration, with her braid coming undone. He felt a shiver at the sight of her looking so bloody shag-able. He groaned almost inaudibly and leaned in to nuzzle his nose just under her ear.

"I can think of a much better way to spend the time," he purred, loving the way the goose bumps erupted all over the skin on her neck and collar bone.

"You seriously want to just snog for three hours?" Hermione muttered breathlessly, trying to sound dubious but it just came out as yearning. He smirked, placing a few open mouthed kisses down her neck.

"Definitely," he replied between kisses, "that…sounds…bloody…fantastic… to me."

Hermione gave a little whimper and stepped back to look him in the eye. She was clearly flustered.

"But what about Blaise?"

"Fuck Blaise."

He kissed her again, his eyes rolling back into his head as she succumbed to his passionate persuasion. He felt a thrill of desire as she threw her arms around his neck, drawing him closer and giving in.

He knew it couldn't last. For all his wicked talk, it was actually important that he be prepared to face his friend. But that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy a good long snog session with Hermione before they both started to really panic about tonight.

He was a Slytherin, after all. That meant he wasn't above manipulating people to get what he wanted. And right now he wanted Hermione. She'd forgive him later for distracting her, it was her nature.

As she dug her sharp little nails into his back to pull him closer, he grunted and thought to himself that it was definitely worth it.

...

 **Yes, I know. Another chapter ending on the brink of something happening. But I'm hoping that the next one will be up a lot sooner. What do you think is going to happen with Blaise? Please review!**


	22. Revealed

**Author's Note: Yes back again a bit quicker this time. I'm glad you're still enjoying the various twists and turns of the story. I think we're ready for Blaise. And I'll be interested to see your reactions as well. As always, JKR is the Editor of the Daily Prophet.**

Draco was nervously pacing back and forth in front of the cottage, his stride uneven as he tapped his fingers against his outer thigh. He cast a quick tempus charm and saw that it was two minutes until nine. Hermione was firmly sealed inside the small laundry room off the back of the living room near the kitchen. She would be able to hear everything going on, but Blaise would not accidentally stumble upon her if he decided he wanted to use the bathroom or something. They had even cast some defensive charms on the door just in case.

At one minute to nine, Draco stopped pacing and approached the edge of the wards. His friend would of course be perfectly on time, that's just what he was like. Punctual and organised to the extreme. He prepared himself with his wand raised high in the air, ready to do as his old friend requested. His plan was to create a small window in the wards that would only let one person through, and only with his approval. The last thing he wanted was to make his little cottage vulnerable to an invasion.

Draco felt a tingle up his spine and knew that the ward was being breached through the little pinprick opening he had made. Blaise was a clever boy; he knew exactly what to look for. It took a few seconds to work it out just enough to let only the one person through and no one else, but eventually he emerged out of the darkness.

Blaise Zabini was one of those people who would easily become lost in a crowd. He had very dark brown hair that fell down around his ears in waves, with a very heavy, striking brow the same colour. His skin had a slightly olive complexion, and he stood stiff and upright with the sort of perfect posture that came from being raised in pureblood society. But his face was typically expressionless when he was in public and his attitude seemingly nonchalant. Of course, Draco knew a very different side to the boy; when it was just the two of them, Blaise's personality could become mischievous, even childlike as they teased each other as he imagined brothers would.

As he walked towards him now, Blaise's face gave away nothing. There was no impish smile, or frown of disgust, or even recognition. He looked completely bland as he approached and stood before Draco, his wand dangling down by his side.

"Blaise," Draco said with a forced smile, knowing that it didn't quite reach his eyes as he looked his old friend over suspiciously, "It's been a very long time."

"Yes, it has" the other boy replied with a casual drawl. Then the brunette's eyes roved over the house behind them, his thick brows drawing together in an expression of puzzlement. He gave a low whistle and returned his gaze back evenly to Draco, "Not really what I would have expected, Draco."

He felt his lip twitch a little at his friend's bemusement, but he willed himself not to smirk.

"What _did_ you expect?"

Blaise shrugged and took a slight step towards him and the house, his eyes lingering on the little wooden letterbox near them.

"I dunno…gothic spires and maybe a few dungeons."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"This house is extremely… _ordinary._ "

Draco did smile then. He knew that Blaise was trying to be insulting, and his younger self would have probably had an issue with the comment, but not now. He loved his little cottage, even if it was a bit 'ordinary'. He'd had enough mansions to last him a lifetime.

"Want to see inside?" he asked with a casual shrug, and Blaise nodded, following him up the cobblestoned path. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Blaise looking quickly left and right to take it all in. The little beds of flowers, the cheery light coming through the windows, the untamed heather rolling over the surrounding hills and between the trees. They entered the living room together and Blaise's eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

"Huh. This is…cosy."

"Thank you."

"It's a far cry from the style of Malfoy Manor," this time when Blaise spoke there was a definite quirk of the lips that hinted at a smile.

"No shit," Draco snorted. He watched his old friend wander over to the shelves where he ran his fingers over some of the more unusual spines. He paused at one or two and cocked his head thoughtfully to the side.

"So…" Blaise began in a drawl, turning to face him with his arms crossed in front of him, "Is this for real? Or just some elaborate hoax to impress me?"

Draco frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on, Draco. A muggle cottage? With shelves full of muggle books? And I'm pretty sure I saw an espresso machine on my way in."

"So?"

Blaise threw his hands up in the air with a bemused look.

"So…I dunno…I guess I'm kinda waiting for Salazar Slytherin to jump out from behind something and yell _gotcha._ "

Draco smirked a bit at the image.

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint. This is just where I live."

Blaise scoffed.

"Alright, well what's the story then? Have you lost your marbles? Because this doesn't look like the home of a Death Eater."

"You know, _you_ are the one who has barged into _my_ home without explanation," Draco retaliated a bit petulantly, "so why do I feel like I'm the one being interrogated?"

Blaise glared at him.

"How about because you're the one with the dark mark on your arm who seems to be living like a muggle!"

"And you're the one who disappeared to a different continent and hasn't contacted me since."

Blaise stared at him with wide eyes.

"So you're suspicious of _my_ motives? Well that's a joke."

"Why not? You ran away," Draco accused with a matching glare.

"Yeh, I did," Blaise said with forced calmness, "And I'd do it again. It was smart. So you know exactly where I stand."

Draco had no reply to that. When it came down to it, he knew Blaise pretty damn well, and he simply wasn't the kind of person to get involved with a war no matter what side. Seeing his hesitation, Blaise continued.

"The question is, Draco, where do _you_ stand?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at his brunette friend, wondering what he was thinking.

"I'm a Death Eater."

Blaise snorted inelegantly, which was surprising for the normally very refined young man.

"Yeh and Dolores Umbridge is my new girlfriend," he said sarcastically.

Draco couldn't help but chuckle this time. He had forgotten how amusing his friend could be.

"Come on, Draco. We had this same argument a year ago, and you fucked it up. Don't pull this crap on me again."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You bloody well do," Blaise snarled, collapsing onto one of the couches and giving him a slightly childish frown, "You're about as much a Death Eater as I am."

"Have you completely forgotten that I took the mark?" Draco argued, gesturing to his forearm, which was covered up by his grey shirt at the moment. He didn't know why he was pushing this argument with his friend; he just thought it wise to protect himself in case this meeting wasn't what it seemed. It was possible that he was being tested somehow. Blaise returned his stare with directness, not even batting an eyelid.

"We both know how meaningless that mark can be. Who cares if your daddy forced you to get inked? As long as your own actions speak for you it's just an ugly tattoo."

"So let me get this straight," Draco started, dropping into the opposite chair and linking his fingers together as he watched Blaise intently, "You think that I'm harbouring feelings of…disloyalty shall we say, towards my master. So you've come here to…uh…test my resolve?"

"Not exactly. I think you're just trying to survive. You don't give a shit about pureblood supremacy. So I suppose I just wanted to check up on you, see if you were ready to come back to Europe with me?"

Draco observed him silently for a while, puzzled by the sudden offer. If Blaise was being genuine, then it was an unbelievably kind offer. If the other boy helped to shelter him, then he would be placing himself at risk of incurring the wrath of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. And what made it even more generous was the fact that the last time they had spoken, Draco had been exceptionally cruel to his friend. He certainly hadn't expected forgiveness, let alone support.

"Why now?" he asked slowly, wondering what the brunette's motives were for the timing of this sudden offer.

Blaise sighed, running a hand nervously through his wavy brown hair.

"I heard about your mother," he admitted in a quiet voice.

Draco nodded glumly. He should have known. In fact, given the timing of it all, he wouldn't be surprised if it was Snape who had found a way to inform Blaise of this fact all the way over in Europe. When he didn't respond, his friend leaned forward.

"What happened? I only heard that she had died."

Draco took a deep breath. He didn't really like to open up those old wounds, but Blaise was someone he had shared a lot with over the years, so it felt more than natural to be honest with his old friend.

"I was summoned to the manor. She had dismissed all the house elves and was waiting for me. She had taken some kind of poison. I arrived just in time for her to die in my arms."

Blaise winced.

"Shit."

"Yeh, it was…something that I hadn't expected would happen, but I wasn't exactly surprised. She changed a lot this last year."

Blaise nodded glumly.

"Shame it wasn't Lucius," he quipped darkly. Draco gave a half-smile in agreement, knowing how much Blaise detested his father. He had never liked the way Draco had been controlled through his youth. It was part of the reason they had taken their rebellious trip to Cornwall after fourth year.

"Well if it makes you feel better I broke his nose in two places afterwards."

Blaise smiled slowly, evilly.

"Yes. That does make me feel _much_ better."

The two of them chuckled together, although it was with a slightly bitter edge given the subject matter. Blaise sobered quickly and let out a heavy breath.

"I'm sorry for your loss… but Draco; now you can try to escape. You have no ties here now. And I have friends in Italy who could help to hide you. You'd have the best protection available."

Draco wanted to laugh at the cruel timing. He had felt adrift with helplessness for months, and now within the space of a week he had two people make him unique offers, both of which involved betraying the Dark Lord. And both of which were predicated on the death of his mother. He contemplated how to answer his friend's question. A small part of him still wished he could take Blaise up on his offer, kidnap Hermione, and wait out the war in southern Italy together. It sounded wonderful.

"Wouldn't that just be putting you all in danger?"

Blaise nodded thoughtfully but still looked determined to convince him.

"From what I hear, You-Know-Who is focused on other things right now. Theodore Nott reckons the battle's brewing, and he's hardly likely to hunt down one rogue and _inexperienced_ Death Eater when things are coming to a head."

Draco pursed his lips.

"I wouldn't put it past him."

Blaise raised one eyebrow in surprise at Draco's cynicism, but shrugged it off.

"Well even if he does, we'll be ready – we have some of the best hidden defences on the continent."

Draco shook his head

"Thank you for your generous proposal," he began in a much kinder tone now, feeling sure that Blaise meant well, "but I'm determined to stay here and see out this war. I have…other duties besides my mother keeping me here."

Blaise gave him a sort of knowing grimace and collapsed back into the couch.

"Like Hermione Granger?" he said cheekily.

Draco completely froze. He felt his face tighten as he flushed, and his pulse felt like it had stopped. Then slowly, it started to beat again, then it began to pound. He swallowed a bit and looked back at his friend with round eyes. In the back of his mind he thought his reaction didn't bode well to his possible career as a spy. If he couldn't control his body's responses to these kinds of situations then he'd make a pretty shit double agent.

"Uh…what?" he tried to recover from the total giveaway reaction by sounding overly casual and confused. But he was sure that his face had whitened (if that were possible) and that there was a little tremor to his hands. Surely Snape hadn't revealed that Hermione was staying at his cottage. He just wouldn't tell Blaise that kind of sensitive information. Severus Snape was the most tight-lipped bastard he knew. Which meant his friend must be having some kind of laugh at his expense. He hoped he could just try to shrug it off. Blaise continued to smile at him with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Come on, Draco. We're not in school anymore. No other Death Eater's kids watching us. Don't need to keep it a secret anymore."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit. You want to hang around England so you can try to make a play for muggleborn Granger."

"As if, Blaise, what the bloody hell are you talking about?" He tried to sound repulsed, as though the thought of her literally scared him to death. Since he already looked pretty terrified this wasn't too hard.

"Maybe you're still lying to yourself, but you've always been crap at lying to me."

"Blaise-"

"You've been obsessed with the Gryffindor princess for years."

"That's ridiculous," he scoffed, his pulse thumping erratically. He had no idea how Blaise knew about this, so he must surely be kidding. The brunette boy was way out of his league on this topic.

"Not that ridiculous actually. Want me to review the evidence?"

"Not really…"

Blaise cut him off with a wave of his dismissive hand.

"Tough! You started practically staring holes through her in fifth year, you spent every waking moment in the library, but your grades _dropped,_ and around about the beginning of sixth year you stopped using the term 'mudblood' and glared at anybody who did. Which frankly was bizarre behaviour from someone who had just taken the dark mark. And then one time when I was looking for my charms book in your bag I found a creepy collection of her things like personalised quills and notepaper and even a hair ribbon. I mean, seriously mate, have you lost your mind?"

"Blaise, you are taking all those things completely out of context!"

Blaise snorted and crossed his arms with a sarcastic sneer.

"Oh _am I?_ "

"Yes, I definitely do _not_ want to shag that prissy know-it-all Granger."

Blaise chuckled and leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile.

"I didn't say you wanted to shag her. I think it's more than that. I think you're in love with her."

Draco stared at his friend in disbelief.

"This is a joke, isn't it? You're pulling my leg-" he began weakly but his friend interrupted again.

"Not at all. I'm deadly serious."

"Why the fuck would you say that? Are you on something?"

"Nope. I've wanted to get this off my chest for a while. You want to stay here and see how this war goes because you're in love with Hermione Bloody Granger – the princess of the fucking Order of light or whatever they call themselves. And you've been in love with her for years!"

Draco was silent for a few moments, before he grit his teeth and ran his hands through his hair.

"You're way out of line, Blaise."

"So are you. Who would have thought the big bad Death Eater would fall in love with the most famous mudblood-"

Draco growled and shot to his feet.

"Don't call her that."

There was a silent pause, and then Blaise leant back into the couch triumphantly, his smile wide and smug. Draco cursed himself. Of course he had to go and say something ridiculously obvious like that. It's like he was turning into a bloody Gryffindor and losing all his subtlety. He tried to glare at his friend and cover the mistake with hostility.

"That's not what I meant," he warned as Blaise's smile widened like the cat that ate the canary, "I just don't like the word."

"Of course. But…well you didn't say 'don't call _them_ that'. You said 'don't call _her_ that'. Can you see the difference?"

"I think you're completely insane."

"Me too. I tried for so long to just ignore my suspicions. But I _know_ that I'm right. And you can pretend as long as you want, but you know it too. That's why you want to stay in England."

"It's probably time you leave, Blaise," he said abruptly, pacing back and forth with his hands running through his hair before gesturing crossly towards the door.

"It seems I hit a sore spot," his friend chuckled, rising to his feet slowly, "Alright, I'll go, but only because it's getting late. How about I stop by in another few days and see if you've changed your mind."

"There's not really any point. I wont'."

Blaise shrugged as he made his way towards the door.

"Well I'll come back anyway."

Draco nodded cautiously, but he watched his friend with doubtful eyes as he started to grip the door handle. Blaise paused there, turning his head back around before he left.

"You know, Draco… there's nothing wrong with admitting you're in love with her. I think it's admirable, given your upbringing. You could be so much… _better_ than you were brought up to be. We both could."

Draco watched his old friend silently for a while; deeply affected by the quiet, meaningful words he had spoken. Eventually he nodded in response.

"Ill see you in a couple of days," he said, knowing that by agreeing to see him again, he was telling his friend how much he valued his loyalty.

Blaise tilted his head once more in goodbye and left the cottage. While he had to be given special help to enter the wards, he could of course leave them at any time. After a few moments Draco heard to crack of apparition that signalled his departure.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, feeling a little drained from the confronting conversation. But it had been nice to see his old friend again. No matter how much the brunette pissed him off, he was always extremely protective and supportive. Even when Draco was cruel to him, or when they had to give each other tough love, they both knew they could rely on the other. And it reminded him that he still had people there to help him if things went south. It was a comforting thought.

Draco spun around at the sound of a door creaking open. It was quite dim in the living room now as the fire had burned down to dull embers while Blaise was here, so he could only just see the silhouette of her curly hair in the doorway of the laundry. His body froze stiff for the second time that evening as Hermione emerged, stepping into the shadowy light of the living room. She looked like she had been gripping her hair in her hands, as it was quite unruly, curls sticking out in all directions. He could even see some half crescent shapes in her cheeks where she had clearly been digging her fingernails in. When she stepped towards him he closed his eyes for a second.

How could he have been so stupid? Swept up in conversation with Blaise after so long, he had completely forgotten that she was standing in the little room off the living area listening to every word they said. Which meant that she had heard every single word his friend had said. Which meant she had heard the bits about _her._

Which meant that she knew he was in love with her.

 **Thanks for reading… sorry for the epic cliff hanger, but don't worry I will make up for it by possibly posting the next chapter** ** _TOMORROW_** **, which includes much crazy excitement! Oh no! What's going to happen? Please review.**


	23. Joined

**Author's Note: Well I did promise a chapter today! And I have delivered. I am curious to read your reactions to this one. No more talking, now onto the story… As always, JKR is the Chosen One.**

 _Previously…_

 _How could he have been so stupid? Swept up in conversation with Blaise after so long, he had completely forgotten that she was standing in the little room off the living area listening to every word they said. Which meant that she had heard every single word his friend had said. Which meant she had heard the bits about her._

 _Which meant that she knew he was in love with her._

 _…._

He opened his eyes again to watch her. She had stopped a couple of metres away from him. Her eyes were wide and slightly shiny from tears that she hadn't shed yet. He felt his heart start thumping again as they stared at each other. She looked like she was in pain or something. He could see the shake in her hands as she was wringing them together, and her breathing was uneven and raspy.

"Hermione, listen-" he began in a hoarse voice, taking a step towards her. She stepped backwards away from him, shaking her head.

"Is it true?" she whispered, and Draco swallowed. He had no idea how she was going to react. She didn't exactly look happy.

"Hermione-"

" _Is it true?_ " she asked more forcefully. In his mind he was completely panicking. His thoughts were whirring around trying to get a grip on what he should say or do without pushing her away. But outwardly he appeared calm as he answered. There was really only one thing that he could say.

"Yes. It's true."

She blinked a couple of times, obviously trying to stop any tears from forming. Her eyes darted back and forth around the room for a few moments before she looked back at him. He felt the force of her gaze crawl up his spine.

"I should have known something was wrong," she said in a croaky voice, "But you've been lying to me this whole time. And I believed you."

Draco shook his head, wanting to go wrap his arms around her and reassure her, but he knew she wouldn't want that. She looked like a scared animal searching desperately for a way out of a trap.

"No, no it wasn't like that! I didn't lie, I just didn't want to…scare you."

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath and started to pace across a small space on the rug, wringing her hands together.

"So this whole time, when I thought we were both just developing new feelings for each other…"

Draco released a heavy breath, knowing it was useless to deny it anymore, and hoping that if he answered her questions honestly she would be reassured that he meant well.

"Yes. I already had them."

He saw Hermione clench her fists by her sides.

"And when I was at Malfoy Manor, you didn't save me because you felt like it was the right thing to do. You saved me because you thought you were in love with me?"

"Saving you _was_ the right thing to do."

She shook her head, shooting him an accusing glare.

"But if it had been Harry or Ron in that drawing room being tortured, you wouldn't have even tried."

Draco stared at her for a few beats. He wasn't sure why she was upset that he had saved her, regardless of the reason. The fact was that he did, and now things were different. Nonetheless he was determined to be honest with her for once.

"No, I wouldn't have."

He saw her swallow and spin around for a moment to face the wall, with her back to him. He took the opportunity to inch closer to her. Her passive stance was starting to aggravate him. Although he admitted that his anger was partly caused by the fact that he felt like his feelings were being thrown back in his face.

"Hermione, you know that I'm not some perfect hero. I'm not Harry fucking Potter, I don't just charge into danger like a suicidal wanker. I saved you because of how I feel about you. It's not ideal, but is it really so terrible?"

She turned back around to face him, and her eyes shone with hurt.

"No, I suppose not. But I've been living here for weeks and weeks now. I've shared things with you I've never told anyone else. I've opened up to you and started to really care for you. But now it all just seems like a farce. Like you designed this whole stupid scenario to win me over."

"That's not how it was-"

"Oh really? Did you not design this whole cottage with me in mind?"

"Well…yes…" he admitted reluctantly, knowing that she had already been suspicious of that one.

"So you create this perfect house for me, then conveniently rescue me and bring me back here. Was my wand even really broken that day? Or did you just want to keep me here?"

"No! I didn't lie to you about that," he stammered, feeling guilty even though he knew it wasn't like that. He had thought about it, trying to force her to stay around for longer, but he had always ended up doing the right thing eventually, "I mean…of course I _wanted_ you to stay, but I would never deliberately do anything to hold you back."

Hermione crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"I thought it was just a coincidence that this house seemed so perfect for me. It made me not want to leave. I felt _so_ guilty because all I wanted was to give up and just stay in this little world we have here. But I had no idea that you had designed it that way."

Draco grit his teeth and stared at her intently.

"It wasn't like that. I bought the house for _me._ You just happened to be in my mind, in my thoughts the whole time influencing everything I did, every piece of furniture I bought. But it certainly wasn't part of some nefarious plan."

Hermione sighed, raking her fingers through her heavy curls and clearly starting to think hard. She was biting her lip so hard it might bleed, and she stopped pacing to stare at him with doleful brown eyes. Draco wondered what was going on in her mind. Finally she opened her mouth a couple of times as if to speak, and on the third time, she let out a husky whisper.

"How long?"

He blinked a couple of times at the question. He quickly thought back to those moments at school which he had treasured, sitting near her in the library and being confronted with sensations he had never before experienced.

"Since just after Christmas in Fifth Year."

Hermione took in a little gasp of air in surprise. He understood exactly what she was thinking then. It was a horribly, painfully long time to be in love with someone who barely thought about you at all. The pity was clear in her gaze. And there was also plenty of confusion there. Rightly so, he thought, considering the total absurdity of the whole bloody mess he had got himself into.

"All this time? Why didn't you say anything? Or approach me when we were at school?"

Draco shook his head sadly.

"How would you have reacted?"

Hermione frowned and thought about it for a second.

"Not well. But…you were so _mean_ to me…"

Draco shrugged one shoulder in a gesture of forced casualness.

"I had to get you to notice me somehow."

He saw Hermione shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she dropped her gaze to the floor. He wasn't actually expecting some declaration of love from her in return or anything, but her response didn't exactly comfort him. She blinked a few more times, and at last a single tear fell from her lashes, skimming her cheek before it dropped onto her soft blue cardigan.

"I shouldn't stay," she muttered at last, spinning and starting to head towards the bedroom, her voice shaky and scared, "It's not fair to you, or to me. I should go. I need to find Harry and Ron."

Draco felt his gut drop with a sickening lurch, and he jolted into action. His chaotic mind buzzed for a few milliseconds in panic, but a single thought crystallised through the mess. He couldn't let her walk out of here.

In a few quick strides, Draco crossed to her, catching up with her before she reached the bedroom door. He grabbed onto her wrist and tugged her, pulling her around to face him. Her eyes were wild and her hair was spilling in a frenzy of curls around her face and shoulders.

"No," he muttered harshly, his own anger cresting, "You're not leaving like this."

"Let me go," she said fearfully, trying to pull away, but Draco just held on tighter. Using the momentum of her body's jerking motions, he pushed her backwards until she was pressed into the bedroom door. She squirmed weakly for a few seconds, but he held himself close to her, using his weight to his advantage to keep her trapped.

"Not like this, Hermione," he said, his breath ghosting over her face. They were so closely pressed together, he could feel every curve and dip of her body against his. "You're going to bloody well hear me out before you run away."

Hermione's eyes widened and focused on his. He felt a thrill of delight that she was finally giving him her whole attention, and not wrapped up in her own confused and terrified thoughts. He realised in that small moment that he had only really agreed to a vague question of hers, and an insinuation from Blaise about his feelings for her. But Hermione deserved to hear the truth from his own lips. So he took a deep breath and finally said the words that had been stuck on the tip of his tongue for weeks, if not months.

"I'm in love with you," he murmured, his lips inches away from hers. If it were possible her eyes actually widened, and he felt himself become lost in pools of despair, joy, anger, lust, and doubt, all swimming in her gaze. He grit his teeth, drawing on every last reserve of courage he had and continuing, "you deserve to know how deeply I love, admire and respect you before we both face death either together or apart if you decide to leave. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I was scared that I would never be enough for you. But it doesn't matter how you feel about me, or how angry with me you are now, or if you walk out that door tonight. I'll still love you anyway."

Hermione blinked a couple of times, her eyes going misty and unfocused. Her gaze dropped to his lips and then back to his eyes and he could see her thinking a million thoughts in her head. He felt his heart pounding painfully against his ribs as he waited for her to respond, and he had to force himself to slow his breathing down a bit because he realised he was panting with the stress and anxiety. Finally, after too many agonisingly long moments, she tilted her head up towards him.

"Show me," she whispered breathily, and Draco felt the weight lift from his chest in a single instant. A feeling of euphoria washed over him, soon to be replaced by a throbbing, all consuming need to prove it to her, and to do as she so daringly pleaded.

He crashed his lips against hers, pressing her closer into the door as he devoured her mouth. She kissed him back just as fiercely and it was unlike any other kiss they had shared before. Their lips were wild, unbridled, and almost careless in their kisses as they attacked each other. Draco shivered as he felt the blood rush from his head far too quickly, and he groaned, pushing his thigh in between her legs and making them part for him to nestle into. Not wanting to wait a single second, he grappled clumsily with her shirt and cardigan, tugging them up and pulling them over her head. The curls spilled out over her pale shoulders once the impediment was out of the way and tossed somewhere unceremoniously onto the ground.

He broke their kiss again for a moment to stare down at her torso, exposed to his gaze except for the pale blue and white bra that encased the most perfect breasts he had ever seen. The dainty, flowery pattern on the cotton only made him desire her more, seeing the innocent, feminine style. He frowned briefly when he saw a scar running diagonally across her chest, but he didn't really have time to process it as she was pulling on his hair and fusing their mouths together again. Her fingernails were scorching across his scalp, sending goose bumps down his back, and he thrust his hips into hers in response.

The next time they separated for air, Hermione looked up at him with a determined stare, her brown eyes sparkling with desire, and her lips plump from his kisses.

"Take me to bed, Draco," she said softly, and he nodded numbly, unable to really believe that this was happening. He wanted her so bad that he honestly was unable to think properly; he was just running on instinct. He pushed the door open and they stumbled through together. He kissed her once more softly on the lips before she stepped back towards the bed, taking his hand and leading him towards it. He felt his mouth go dry. There was no mistaking the intent look in her eyes. When they reached the edge of the bed, Hermione sat down quickly before pushing herself back to lean against the headboard. Draco was glad to take his weight off his shaky knees as he crawled over to her and leaned down to kiss her again. They rearranged themselves a little awkwardly, with him rolling over on top of her and Hermione spreading her legs so that he could lie nestled in between them. They were both very nervous, as he could hear the quick little breaths each of them was releasing into the other's ear. But once he was kissing her again he forget his nerves and threw himself into the feel and taste of her lips against his, and the way she released those sexy little whimpers.

Draco felt her squirming under him and he ran a few open mouth kisses down her neck and over her collarbone, making his way lower. He was just peppering soft kisses over the swell of her breasts when Hermione shifted, moving them both to sit upright.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, but she just shook her head and grabbed onto the hem of his grey shirt.

"Too many clothes," she replied distractedly as she tugged the material upwards. Draco smirked and helped her pull it over his head. He threw it to one side and kissed her fiercely again, as they fell back on the bed together.

Their lips parted in that instant in a gasp as they both felt the amazing sensation of their skin pressing together. Draco groaned and kissed down towards the curve of her chest again, alternating between little pecks and slow caresses where his tongue darted out to taste her skin. He let his mouth linger over her breasts, gently moving to kiss each one as he made his way down over her stomach and towards the top of her jeans.

"Draco," she moaned his name hoarsely as he started to undo the button and zip, before he yanked them down over her thighs, staring in wonder at the silky skin of her legs. She was so bloody perfect. He wanted to do a million different things to her body, but as he stared up at her in those innocent little white cotton panties, his mind was too blurry with that all consuming desire to be inside her, it was driving him insane.

He leaned up to kiss her again, and she practically whined into his mouth when he lowered his body just enough to rest his hips in the cradle of her legs, as the hard bulge of his cock came into contact with her centre. He reached down with one hand, and despite the tremor in his fingers, managed to brush them gently over the front of her panties before he dipped them lower to stroke between her thighs.

Draco froze, his lips going slack against hers as his fingers made contact and he became aware of just how much she wanted this. She was so wet, she had soaked the material, and he dropped his head against hers heavily to groan as his other hand gripped the bed sheets.

"Fuck, Hermione," he grunted. He brushed the cotton to one side and stroked his fingers lazily across the velvety soft skin beneath. Hermione's breath stuttered and stopped dead as her whole body tightened in response. He loved how responsive she was. He dipped his fingers in to gather the wetness before rolling his thumb around her clit, feeling a thrill of lust jolt through him at the resulting groan he produced in her. He wondered what other sounds he could make her release. She was breathing again, only now it was more like panting as she took in deep breaths and released them heavily. He could feel the air ruffling his fringe and whispering across his ear.

He had always been selfish with women in the past, probably because they were all trying to please _him_ so desperately, but this was different. This was beyond anything he had ever known. He so badly wanted to hear and feel Hermione's pleasure on his fingers, on his tongue, on his cock, that it was making him giddy with delight and anticipation. He kept up the motions on her clit as he used one finger to enter her slowly. He knew she was a virgin, but was pleased to note as he twisted his finger deeper that there was no barrier to break, which would thankfully make this a lot less painful for her. A girl her age, especially one who had already engaged in magical battles, and had ridden thestrals and hippogriffs would be unlikely to still have her hymen intact.

In his ear he could hear Hermione's gasps turn into moans that escalated in pitch as he increased the pace of his movements. He could feel her walls rippling around his finger, and he grit his teeth at how tight she felt. She had probably never been given this kind of pleasure before, and the thought made him want to grin with a possessive kind of pride.

"Dr…Draco…I'm gonna…" she didn't finish her sentence as she was soon spiralling into orgasm, her back arching and her eyes clenching shut as her body shook underneath him. Draco's grip on the sheets tightened and he had to close his eyes and turn his head away from her, worried that with the friction of his cock against her thigh, even from within the confines of his pants, that he would lose control like an inexperienced fourth year.

Finally he felt her body relax and he removed his hand, rolling away from her a little to catch his breath, as well as try to regain some semblance of control. Because all he wanted to do right now was take her. After a couple of moments he felt her eyes on him and he turned his head to meet her questioning stare. He saw that she was looking a little doubtful, probably because he had had his eyes shut tight and his head turned away, so he quickly smirked reassuringly and leaned down to kiss her. That turned out to be a mistake, because Hermione gripped his hair again and kissed him back fiercely, drawing his bottom lip between hers and then biting down on it. He drew back in surprise as a shock of need raced through him at the feeling of her teeth on his skin.

"I want to take you so bad right now, Hermione. Please…" he winced a bit as he heard himself pleading with her, but right now all he could think about was relieving the constrained ache in his cock which was still trapped in his pants, and feeling her wrapped around him.

Hermione nodded quickly, the lazy, satisfied look having been replaced with desire once more. She frantically reached down and began to clumsily grapple with his belt buckle and the clasp of his jeans while he grabbed his wand off the dresser and muttered a hasty contraception charm. When she took too long struggling with the clasp, even thought it was only probably a couple of seconds, Draco brushed her hands away impatiently and snapped them open himself. As he lifted his weight up on his elbows over her, he felt Hermione reach down and wrap her hand tentatively around his length. She gasped a little at the feel and size of him, but all he was really aware of was the painful throbbing he felt at her soft touch. His balls tightened a little before he grabbed her hand in his and removed it.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing…" she started to stammer, but he chuckled and kissed her hastily.

"Yes you do, I'm so bloody close right now I'm worried I won't last very long."

He saw a beautiful smile spread across her face, and she daringly lifted her legs up a little higher, spreading them a little wider so that his hips dropped down closer and the head of his cock brushed over her clit. She moaned a bit and squirmed, and Draco's eyes rolled back into his head.

"Please, Hermione…"

"I'm ready," she replied huskily, but he shook his head. Even though he was poised at her entrance and wanted nothing more than to plunge into her depths, he stilled with anxiety.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, "and I'm worried that I won't be able to control myself…"

Hermione brushed his sweaty hair off his forehead and gave him a nod of encouragement, placing a few tender kisses on his jaw. When he still didn't move she gave him one sinful opened mouth kiss before staring up at him with those glossy brown eyes.

"Tell me how you feel about me," she whispered breathily, and his eyes widened in surprise as his arms started to shake from holding himself up above her. The words rushed out of him as if they were dragged out in one heavy breath.

"I love you," he groaned, and when she smiled at him he felt a rush of acceptance, like she truly believed him and embraced his feelings for her, even if she wasn't ready to return the words herself. It was the last little push he needed, and he sank into her in one slow thrust. Distantly he heard Hermione moan and felt her arch her back up to meet him. But all he was really aware of was the tight sheath of her wrapped around him, and the steady throbbing of their bodies so intimately connected. He froze inside her for a long time just willing himself not to come like a novice, but he still wasn't sure he'd make it.

"Are you in any pain?" he murmured croakily against her neck.

"None," she murmured, her voice croaky and pleading.

"This isn't going to be very…long…" he panted against her neck, but she just stroked her fingers down his back and urged him to start moving.

"Please start moving, Draco, I want to feel you."

He couldn't deny her words even if he'd wanted to, and he slowly withdrew only to slam back into her with a groan. It took them both a few jerky movements before they found their rhythm. Even then he kept the pace slow, though each thrust was deep and hard to the point that he could feel his toes curl at the sensation of being able to feel every inch of her so exquisitely. He reached down when he felt the heat and tightness in his balls grow, and quickly found her clit again, stroking it in slow circles to match his movements. He heard her gasp again.

" _Oh,_ " she made the little noise as if she were surprised, and when he looked down at her face he saw that she was staring with wide eyes that soon turned glassy as she became aware of what pleasure could really feel like. He smirked and repeated that angle as he quickened his pace, hoping to push her over the edge again before he came.

"Fuck, Hermione, please come for me, love. I'm so close."

He wasn't normally very vocal during sexual acts with girls, but this was obviously a whole different experience. His mind was still numb with disbelief that he was making love to Hermione – _his_ Hermione. He had wanted this for so long and now it was happening, but it was so beyond any of his tangled fantasies or dreams that he had been able to imagine. In reality she was so much more.

Thank Merlin he felt her finally start to tighten around him after a few more thrusts, and he really let himself go. He thrust into her hard and fast, loving the way her moans were turning into almost screams as she built higher and higher towards her peak. When it broke, her nails pierced into the skin of his back and he shuddered with pain even as it spurred his pleasure on, especially hearing her scream his name almost indistinctly, but still enough to hear the word _Draco._

"Oh fuck, love…Hermione-"

Heat flared up his spine and through ever inch of his body as he plunged inside her one last time. His limbs were overcome by an intense feeling of lethargy as he collapsed half on top of her and half to one side.

Hermione was whimpering a little bit in his ear as she wound down from her own high. He lazily lifted his head up from the pillow to look into her face, suddenly worried that she had been hurt towards the end. But she had a satisfied grin on her face, and she blearily opened her eyes to look at him.

"Oh…shit…" she said in a breathy voice that made him chuckle sluggishly.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a soft voice, drawing slightly more away and to the side of her while still keeping his body close. He reached up and pushed a few sweaty curls off her forehead.

"Never better," she said with an indolent smile, "That was…I can't believe we haven't been doing that for the last two months. So much wasted time."

Draco laughed and watched her fondly as her eyes drooped closed again and she nestled deeper into the mattress in a sleepy pose.

"We'll have to make up for it," he murmured, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her lips before he drew the sheets up around them. As he tucked her in, he felt his own eyelids get heavy. His whole body was exhausted and listless, and the radiating ache in his groin was an extremely pleasant reminder of what had just happened. He wanted to ask her more, or say more, or even just say goodnight, but his mind didn't co-operate as he slipped off into sleep next to Hermione, a stupidly wide grin still lingering on his face.

...

 **I hope I made up for my evil cliff-hanger last chapter. Oh dear. Well, this story may have just started to earn its M rating. Please review!**


	24. Enjoyed

**Author's Note: People seemed to enjoy last chapter for some reason. Interesting… A lot of you are convinced that she will run away in the night! Let's see shall we. As always, JKR wants us to follow the spiders.**

 **...**

When Draco felt his eyelashes flutter as his mind slowly shuttered back into awareness, his first impressions were of heat. His body felt incredibly warm. The covers were tugged up high around his shoulders, and his body was curled up with the heavy quilt rough against his naked skin. His lip twitched a little bit as he felt the tiredness in his limbs. He felt wonderful. Images from the previous night flashed beneath his eyelids like fireworks, all scattered together in one chaotic memory of pleasure. He reached one hand out to the side, but the further away he stretched out from his own body the cooler the sheets became. They weren't cold, but it soon became obvious that there was no body there next to his. Draco's eyes shot open. He peered to the side and felt his heart skip when he saw that the space next to him was empty. Leaning up on one elbow, he blearily looked around the room. Pieces of Hermione's clothing were still scattered around; her t-shirt was by the door and her bra was draped over the edge of a nob on the dresser. When he looked more closely next to him he could see that the pillow next to his was still slightly indented from where her head had been. A few errant strands of curly brown hair were even wrapped around the pillowcase.

Draco frowned. Despite all this evidence, she was herself nowhere to be seen. His heart started to thump a bit faster as his mind spun with about a hundred possibilities, all more worrying than the last. Maybe she had grabbed a fresh set of clothes and ran. Even though she had eventually reacted positively to his declaration of love, there had been no mistaking the look of terror in her eyes when she had first been confronted by his words. He could not see her wand anywhere, or her bag. It was possible that she had been too freaked out by it all and left to re-join her friends. Perhaps last night had just been a pity shag before she abandoned him.

With a slight wave of panic starting to set in, Draco moved to raise himself higher and push the covers off. Just as he did, the sound of a creaking door came from his left, and the bathroom doorway was opened to reveal Hermione standing there with a slightly sheepish, adorably self-conscious smile on her red lips. She leaned against the doorway a bit as she was faced with his intent, questioning gaze. But his initial concern was erased when his eyes lowered to take in her appearance. She was wearing his shirt from last night, a long-sleeve grey woollen piece that fit her very loosely. The hem dropped down to her thighs, revealing her smooth, curvy legs, and the sleeves hung too low over the tips of her fingers. He felt the clenching of a possessive desire in his gut as his eyes raked back up her body. She had her arms crossed and was looking at him with a wry smile as he finally started breathing again, not realising he had stopped in his panic.

"Thought I'd left?" she asked softly, and Draco let out another sigh of relief at the amused, knowing look in her eyes.

"Yes," he admitted with a sheepish grimace of his own.

Hermione shook her head with a chuckle and pushed herself off the doorway. She crept over to the bed, slipping under the covers next to him. Draco shuffled backwards to give her room, and they lay on their sides facing each other. He could tell from the very faint blue light that it was not quite dawn yet, but still those early hours just before the sun fully started to rise, when the frost settled in across the fields. Hermione's feet were icy cold as they entered the sheets, and Draco wiggled his closer to try and warm hers up.

There was a bit of an awkward silence for a while as they stared somewhat sleepily at each other, before Draco finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Are you…in any pain?" Hermione's brow furrowed a bit in confusion. He let out a heavy breath of air and answered her unasked question, "I was terrified of hurting you last night."

"Oh," she exclaimed quietly, "Well you don't have to worry. There was a tiny bit of pain at first but it really wasn't too bad."

Draco sighed a bit in relief and smiled at her.

"Good."

A light blush settled on her cheeks, and Draco raised one eyebrow curiously. She took a couple of quick breaths before she voiced what was on her mind.

"I didn't realise that it could feel like that."

Draco blinked at her in surprise.

"Like what?"

Her blush reddened and spread from her cheeks down her neck and towards her chest, which was covered by the quilt.

"I've heard other girls say that they don't…that it's not pleasurable for them their first time."

"And you…?" he prompted with a very light smirk of his lips.

She wriggled a bit closer to him.

"I wasn't expecting to feel that kind of intensity. It completely overwhelmed me," Draco's smile widened into a smug grin, and Hermione snorted and gave him a little shove, "Alright, don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he chuckled, drawing her close and placing a couple of soft kisses on her cheeks and nose. He felt his heart swell with joy. This was so much more than he had expected last night. He had been thrilled when she had asked him to kiss her, when she had welcomed his touch. But he had never been able to picture with such clarity the kind of passion she would respond to him with. She had truly blown all his fantasies out of the water. And now here she was the next morning, still here with him, treating him with that teasing, affectionate behaviour that he craved. That made him feel wanted and cared for. He knew that there was a time stamp on it, but he was going to treasure every moment he had. When he felt the heat in her cheeks against him, he leaned back and watched in amusement as Hermione squirmed and looked a bit embarrassed about something.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

"Um…well…it's just… I didn't really know what I was doing last night. You'll have to be patient with me and help me get better at it."

Draco felt a deep laugh well up inside him, but he just managed to stop it, knowing she would find it offensive. And it also made him incredibly sad. This was what happened when a strong, fiercely intelligent young woman was constantly put down by her peers and friends. She was always made to feel like she wasn't good enough, that her logic was not welcome, that she was easily exchanged for something better.

"Hermione, you have no idea how ridiculous I find that statement. How can you possibly get better at something when you're already perfect? Last night was beyond anything I have ever experienced before."

She peered up at him through a fringe of riotous curls, were brown eyes wide and hopeful.

"Really? I wasn't sure…"

"It doesn't matter how much experience you've had," he said in a low, throaty voice, remembering just how amazing she had been, "It was _you._ And I've wanted you for _so_ long."

He felt himself get a bit carried away with the flickers of memories of feeling her wrapped around him, and he let his fingertips begin a gentle trail up her hip and over her ribs. He felt her shiver in response.

"Did you ever consider saying anything to me while we were at school?" Hermione murmured, arching her back a little as his hand ran up higher to the swell on the underside of her breast. Draco smiled softly at her as he slid closer under the covers. He reached his hand behind her to the small of her back and dragged her towards him until their bodies were touching; his naked and hers covered only in his thin woollen shirt. He leaned forward to nuzzle against her ear.

"Once or twice," he admitted in a husky whisper, "particularly on those late nights in the library."

He knew that she would figure out what he was referring to. There had been plenty of times in their sixth year when they had been the last ones left when everyone else had scurried back to their common rooms. Sometimes Draco had been completely immersed in his study of vanishing charms, trying to fix that damn cabinet. And other times he had hung around purely because _she_ was there. With all the other shit going on that year, all the stress placed on him from outside the school, sometimes it was soothing to just sit near her when she was quietly studying or reading, and watch her. And he had indeed considered approaching her on several of those occasions.

"What stopped you?"

He placed a few kisses down her neck, smiling against her skin.

"You mean apart from the obvious?"

"Mmhmm…" she hummed distractedly.

"Well…for starters I was worried that you would think I was just trying to seduce you for my own nefarious reasons."

"And are you?" she asked with a throaty gasp as he nibbled on her collarbone.

"Absolutely."

He managed to capture her lips then, and their conversation came to an abrupt end. He let his hands slip down a little lower, brushing the hem of the shirt up her thighs so that he could cup her ass and pull her closer against his now pulsing groin.

Hermione released a strangled moan and arched further into him. She twined her fingers through his hair and pulled his head closer, but he used the angle to attack her neck and jaw, trailing kisses and licks down to her collarbone again. Even after a sticky night and morning, she still tasted amazing. He wanted to taste more of her. He leaned back and gave her a cheeky, devilish smile, pulling her with him until she was sprawled on top of him, and then encouraging her to sit up. He followed her up until they were both sitting upright on the bed, Hermione straddling him with her soft thighs.

Draco began to pepper little kisses back down her neck and chest towards her breasts. He grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it over her head quickly, throwing it away. Then he returned to the task at hand. He kissed his way to the peak of one breast, drawing it into his mouth before doing the same on the other side. Hermione began to writhe on top of him at the sensations, and Draco felt all his cravings localise south in a painful ache as she unknowingly gyrated on top of him. He grabbed onto her hips to try and still her movements, but she just tilted her head downwards and kissed him hard.

"I'm ready, please-" she moaned when they parted for air. Draco hardened even more if that were possible at the sound of her breathy voice, and he couldn't have denied her or slowed down even if he'd tried. The memory of being inside her the previous night was grappling with the heat in his groin now, and all he wanted was to feel that ecstasy again, it was like a drug.

"Are you sure?" he croaked, lifting her hips and holding her body over him, her thighs trembling beside his hips with her own desire to sink onto him. He could feel how wet she was against him, and he had to grit his teeth to wait for her answer.

"Yes, _please_ , Draco."

He couldn't believe how quickly things could escalate between them. All he felt was a wild, uninhibited physical urge for her both last night and this morning that he couldn't fight. Dimly he was aware that he wasn't doing a very good job of showing her what foreplay was, but it seemed the two of them were simply too desperate to wait for that kind of thing. Maybe if they'd had more time…

All rational thought, actually all thought at all, flew from his head as she slowly took him inside her. She was so wet and hot wrapped around him, and her head was thrown back in pleasure, curls dropping down to drag along the sheets behind her. Every sensation in his body became concentrated in that one area, and he had to dig his fingers into her hips to still her movement. If she started to bob up and down on him now he wouldn't last.

Draco pressed his forehead into her sternum, panting for breath.

"Please, stop…just stop there. I need a moment," he whined into her skin, and he felt her body shake slightly as she chuckled.

"Okay," she gasped a bit, and he felt her muscles twitch and clench around him. He groaned.

"Fuck, you're killing me, Granger."

Draco didn't feel at all capable of lasting long enough to bring her the pleasure she deserved. He finally loosened his grip on her waist and reached round clumsily between them with one hand. At the same time he encouraged her to start moving. She was a bit awkward at first, and it took a bit of shuffling and bumping before she really got into the idea of building a rhythm. But it didn't matter. She could have been doing anything, or not even moving at all, and he would've felt blinded by the pleasure of feeling _her_ and the urge to possess her.

With his other hand he gently touched her nub and moved in slow circles. He stifled her gasp of surprise with his lips as he kissed her hard. She met his kiss with frenzy, keeping up the rhythm as their open mouths clashed. Draco's thoughts were spinning in circles, just praying that he could last long enough to get her there. He actually groaned out a breathy thank you when he felt her start to tighten around him. She broke their kiss and threw her head back with a long moan of his name, and Draco finally let go. His hands grabbed onto her hips and held her in a vice as he grunted against her throat, whispering her name hoarsely as his body was consumed by a great sense of lethargy.

They both collapsed backwards diagonally across the bed, panting. Draco heard giggling next to him, and he turned his head to the side to see Hermione lying on her stomach with her head lying next to his, facing him. Her curls were truly wild now, and she had a big grin on her face as she laughed.

"Wow," she gasped between breaths, and Draco felt himself smirk back in response.

"You were amazing," he murmured, reaching over and brushing a few of her curls off her sweaty forehead so that he could look into her eyes.

"You weren't so bad yourself."

They both chuckled a bit more, before Hermione flopped down with a sigh. Draco grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to cover them both.

"I'm going to have to thank Blaise for this."

Hermione laughed and moved her head to rest on his chest.

"Can I meet him this time?"

Draco raised an eyebrow down at her.

"You already know him."

"Not really. I never spoke to him at school. But he's your friend, so I'd like to get to know him."

Draco grimaced.

"Does this mean I have to talk to _your_ friends?"

Hermione hummed a bit in contemplation, before her eyebrows drew together in a frown.

"Well…maybe not too much at first. We'll have to tackle that one day at a time."

Draco snorted.

"Blaise is going to give me shit about that."

Hermione chuckled and placed a gentle kiss on his chest.

"Will he support us?"

"Of course. I'd be more worried about your friends supporting us."

"Good point," she conceded with a frown.

Draco could tell she was thinking hard about her friends' reactions. He really didn't want to get into a conversation about Weasel and Potter now. As if the little elf had read his mind, Tilly popped into the room wearing a sparkly blue top, skirt and shoes. She took once glance at them, wrapped up together in a tangle of naked limbs covered only by a thin sheet, and her round eyes went even wider like two saucers. She gave a little gasp and spun around to face the opposite wall. Draco and Hermione met each other's eye and started to chuckle a bit, before she ducked her head against his shoulder and Draco leaned up on his elbows.

"Tilly is very sorry Master."

"It's alright Tilly," he said, "We should have warded the room. What did you need?"

He saw her scrunch her bony fingers up in the material of her skirt and hop from one foot to the other.

"Tilly just heard noises and wondered if Master and Miss would like breakfast."

"That would be lovely, Tilly. We'll be out soon."

"Does Master require anything else?"

"No thank you. Now be gone with you, and stop smiling like a lunatic"

Tilly spun around once more before she left, and Draco could see the beaming, toothy smile that he had guessed would be on her face. She jumped up and down once or twice before vanishing, leaving Draco to shake his head in bemusement.

"Well we have Tilly's support," he quipped, and Hermione raised her head from his shoulder to smile cheekily at him.

"At least now I know why she made all those Slytherin coloured clothes for me. And why _you_ didn't stop her!"

Draco sniffed and sat up in bed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said with a touch of his old arrogance, and Hermione laughed and pushed him further away. He spun around once he was sitting on the edge of the bed and looked back at her. She was a vision. Her rich brown curls were spilling all over the pillows and mattress underneath her head, framing her face like a halo, and her lips were a little more red than usual from his kisses. He shivered.

"Come on," he said a bit huskily, "Let's go have a shower before breakfast is ready. My hair's all sweaty and unkempt."

Hermione giggle, sitting up. He stared at her, swallowing the lump in his throat as the sheet dropped down to her waist, exposing her breasts to his ravenous eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a spoiled brat?" she asked mischievously, gathering up the sheet and slipping off the other side of the bed to stroll around towards the bathroom. Draco smirked and rose to follow her, unashamed of his nakedness.

"Actually yes. Often."

"Ah, well you should pay more attention then."

He chuckled wryly.

"Well one of us has to be in control of their hair."

Hermione frowned at him, but he just wrapped one of her wild curls around his finger, biting into his bottom lip and giving her his most leery smile. Her lip twitched and she brushed past him with a huff into the bathroom.

Once they were ensconced in the small space, he reached around and turned the taps on, feeling his body respond to the thought of getting all soapy and wet in the shower with her. Even though she was still clenching the sheet close to her, he was already picturing her skin covered in suds and hundreds of droplets that he would meticulously lick from her skin like a man dying of thirst. Hermione raised one elegant brow at the covetous look he was giving her.

"Why do I get the feeling we're not going to get very clean in this shower?" she asked him with her hip cocked in a gesture of bossy questioning.

Draco smirked, reaching out to grab onto the edge of the sheet and pulling it from her body. She let it drop to the ground as the shower beat down with hot water now, and steam began to curl around their legs.

"I have no idea," he murmured in reply, "I fully intend to clean every inch of you."

Hermione's look turned a bit heated then as well as she stepped past him and under the spray. Draco followed her in with a grin, wondering vaguely if Tilly would be smart enough to cook the breakfast very, very slowly this morning.

….

A couple of days had passed before Draco was willing to accept that this had reached beyond the point of a honeymoon period, and was now turning into some kind of mindless physical obsession. He couldn't get enough of her. Every time they connected he learned something new about her, about her body and what she liked. He knew all about addiction, of course. His father had always had a habit of depending on alcohol, and his mother had taken so many calming and relaxation draughts that he could recognise the signs of withdrawal when she missed a dose. He wondered if his behaviour this week was similar to that kind of reliance. He knew that he craved her, that if he didn't touch or taste Hermione for too long that he would feel nervous, shaky and his mind would not focus on anything else. They had managed to stay in bed for most of the last two days, only getting up to eat or read, and even then they stayed very close. He kept himself sane by putting a hand on the small of her back, or stroking her hair, or just kissing her nape if she was turned away from him.

And when they did have sex, which was so often that his body was starting to ache in places he didn't even know could hurt, he was incapable of clear thinking. Everything just sort of passed in a blur of sensation. Hermione had become more confident in her own skin, and had shown that Gryffindor courage more than once by initiating things between them. She was still very self-conscious at times, and she didn't like to flaunt her naked body, but she was becoming more comfortable with exploring _him._ Although people had mocked her often for being a "know-it-all" swot, she really did have a natural curiosity for becoming the best at things, and she was a quick study. Draco smirked as he watched her pace nervously across the living room. Who would have guessed that underneath the bookworm exterior that everyone took for granted there was such a fierce, passionate lover? And she had no idea how erotic she really was. Sometimes when she was thinking or reading a book and she bit down into that pouty bottom lip of hers he wanted to grab her and just carry her over his shoulder into the bedroom and take her.

His thoughts snapped back to the present as she huffed out a breath and cast a tempus charm. When she tutted in response, he realised that he had let his mind drift away, and he should probably be keeping his senses more alert for Blaise's arrival. Just like the other day he would feel when the wizard approached, and he'd be able to create a window for him to enter. Only this time Hermione wasn't in hiding, and he wasn't about to have any secrets revealed to her. This was it. Blaise had sent them notice that he would visit again today as promised, and they were going to face him together instead of covering up her presence. Draco had his wand ready just in case his old friend turned out to be a traitor.

"Settle down, Granger, you're making me nervous too," he drawled, reverting back to her last name to try and catch her attention and stop her fretting. She just clucked her tongue at him and kept pacing. He knew she was anxious about meeting one of his friends. He understood how difficult it must be for her. She was probably scared of being called a mudblood and treated like she had so frequently been by Slytherins when she was at school – especially him.

Draco let out a deep breath when he felt a magical presence approaching, and he turned to give her a nod of acknowledgement as he raised his wand and created the split in his wards. They waited in tense silence for another minute as the footsteps approached the house. This time Blaise just knocked twice and pushed the door open, his coat wrapped tightly around him from the cold outside as he shook off a couple of raindrops.

"Shit it's freezing out there, why did you have to go and buy a cottage out in the middle of sodding nowhere you wanker-" he started to rant as he entered the room and strode up to Draco. He held out his hand for a shake, but Draco didn't accept, instead looking pointedly over his shoulder at where Hermione was standing fretfully near the fireplace.

"What's with the bloody theatrics all of a su-" he turned around and saw Hermione standing there. His mouth dropped open in complete and total shock, his jaw lowered in such a comical way that he looked like a caricature. Of surprise Draco wished he'd had a camera in that moment, because his friend's expression was priceless, "Oh. Oh… _fuck me…_ "

"As eloquent as always, Blaise," Draco sneered.

Blaise just spun around between the two of them for a few seconds, dumbstruck. He shook his head a couple of times, and finally managed to close his mouth with a slight popping sound. He ran his hands through his wavy hair, messing it up for probably the first time in his privileged, groomed life.

"This is a joke. You're pulling my leg. Has Tilly taken some polyjuice or something?"

Hermione couldn't help sighing and rolling her eyes.

"Polyjuice is not compatible with elf genetics, they're not susceptible to the boomslang skin like we are."

Blaise spun around to face Draco.

"Shit, it really _is_ her. Either that or you got really good at charms all of a sudden."

Draco smiled softly and shook his head.

"Why don't you take a seat?"

Blaise nodded numbly and moved to perch himself on the edge of the couch. But almost as soon as he did, he shot back up again.

"Wait a minute, was she here the other day too?"

Draco hesitated, his eyes flicking to the curly haired witch and back to his friend.

"Yes."

Blaise pushed a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair again.

"Wow. That's heavy. I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"Seriously, Blaise, sit down and we'll attempt to discuss it maturely."

His friend sank down onto the couch and stayed there this time. He was still gaping at Hermione like a fish, and couldn't seem to figure out what to say.

"Ok, so what the bloody hell is going on here, exactly?" he asked eventually. Draco's smile widened.

"Where do I start?"

Blaise shook his head in disbelief, his eyebrows raised up high on his forehead.

"I don't know, where _does_ it start?"

Draco gestured towards Hermione, beckoning her to come and sit next to him. She did so with slightly shaky legs, sinking down and letting him grasp her hand in his. Blaise followed the action with wide eyes.

Draco took a deep breath and explained the story of how Hermione came to be at Malfoy manor. And how he had managed to rescue her and bring her back to the cottage. He was able to go into a bit more detail with Blaise than he had with Snape, because even his somewhat impulsive, rude friend was a more patient listener than Severus Snape. His friend listened attentively the whole time, stopping him only to make exclamations of surprise or disgust when it came to the behaviour of Lucius and Bellatrix. Draco paused when he got up to where they arrived back at the cottage, not really knowing how to phrase the next part.

"Hold on a minute," Blaise said with one hand raised and a look of total bewilderment on his face, "From what you're saying, that was months ago."

"Almost three months, yes."

Blaise shook his head.

"So you've just been living here together all this time?"

"Yes."

He leaned back on the couch as if he were exhausted.

"I can't believe this. So the other day when I was here, why did you spend so much energy playing the part of the Death Eater? You're obviously not if you've been shacked up with a muggleborn for three months."

Draco pursed his lips.

"I wasn't sure if _you_ were genuine. You could have been under the imperius or spying on me. I was just playing it safe."

Blaise nodded in begrudging acceptance.

"Alright, fine. That's a smart move I suppose," he sighed and leant forwards, "So…what does all this mean? You obviously seem cosy together. Not that I'm surprised on your part. Are you a couple now? I honestly didn't think she'd give you the time of day!"

Draco felt his heart skip a bit. They hadn't really given themselves a label. He looked over at Hermione, but she was just smiling softly at him.

"Yes we are," she said with quiet confidence, making Draco smirk too.

"Really? With him?"

Draco glared at his friend.

"Thanks a lot, Blaise. You know, I'm quite a catch."

"Sure you are. Draco bloody Malfoy. Prince of the Slytherins, dating the Gryffindor Princess. You know, I saw a muggle play like that when I was in Florence."

"Romeo and Juliet," Hermione nodded with a cheerful little laugh, "I'm hoping we don't end up like them though."

"No, let's hope for the star-crossed part without the tragedy."

Draco didn't follow them at all. But they were both chuckling, so it must be a rather well-known muggle thing.

"So now you know that you were right," Draco said reluctantly, "And why I'm not coming back to Europe with you."

Blaise stared at him intently for a moment before he burst into laughter.

"You're going to be allies with Potter and Weasley now, aren't you?"

Draco scowled at his friend, and Hermione tutted in disgust.

"They're not that bad," she started to argue, but Blaise cut her off.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I am perfectly happy to accept that my friend is mad about _you_ – you're quite smart and rather nice to look at. But I stand by my right to tease Draco about making nice with those two reckless morons."

"He has a point," Draco agreed, and Hermione frowned darkly at both of them.

"They're actually quite- ok, well maybe not Ron, but _Harry_ is actually quite clever, you know…"

Blaise snorted and leaned forward further until he was perched on the edge of the couch.

"No way, this is the same person who just broke out of Gringotts on the back of a dragon for Merlin's sake."

Draco's eyes shot in surprise to Hermione just in time to see her face turn a pasty white as all the colour drained rapidly from her cheeks. She stared at Blaise in horror as she absorbed his words. Draco watched as she shot to her feet and open her mouth to speak in a croaky, terrified whisper.

"He did _what?_ "

….

 **Thanks for reading! I'm getting into quite a bad habit of ending on cliff hangers. I just enjoy the suspense! Please review.**


	25. Decided

**Author's Note: Thanks for continuing to follow this little story. As many of you have guessed we are progressing now into the home stretch but still have some way to go. I'll just remind everyone that Draco saving Hermione from the manor** ** _does_** **change a lot of things, so for those wondering how certain events will happen in the final battle, this might have ongoing repercussions for all our heroes. Remember that! :) As always, JKR solemnly swears she is up to no good.**

 **...**

Draco had one arm propped up tiredly on the mantel place, running his hand slowly through his hair. He watched as Hermione paced back and forth across the living room floor, biting nervously on her nails as she listened to Blaise's description of what he had heard from his contacts in England. He could practically feel the terrified energy coming off her in waves. Grimacing, he watched her fretting with a heavy sensation in his chest. His friend had told a story so wild about the two Gryffindor's bursting through the roof on the back of a dragon, that he wasn't even certain he believed it. And the effect that the story was having on Granger was worrying too. Of course he knew that she would return to them soon, and he accepted that now, but he had hoped they'd have a bit more time together. Now that he had finally confessed his love, and she hadn't run away screaming, they were becoming more and more intimate. Maybe if they'd had more time she could have said it back to him. He shook his head to rid himself of this naïve thought, and turned back to what Blaise was saying.

"…my friend has contacts among the goblins, including a few workers from the bank. And apparently You-Know-Who eviscerated the tellers and security who were working there that day," Blaise said with a slightly green tinge to his face at the thought.

Hermione gasped and her eyebrows drew together in horror. She probably couldn't even imagine the kind of mindless slaughter that Voldemort could inflict on people. Draco frowned and met her stare.

"How the bloody hell did those idiots break into Gringotts? That place is supposed to be impenetrable."

Hermione, shook her head slowly, her nails digging into the skin on her cheeks. She was clearly thinking at full pace, as she was biting down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

"It's possible they used polyjuice potion to look like one of the Death Eaters."

Blaise snorted.

"As if those two brainless gits could brew polyjuice."

"They didn't," Hermione retorted in a vague, thoughtful voice, and it was a testament to how worried she was that she didn't scold Blaise for his insult, "They used one that _I_ made."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I had a whole batch brewed months ago, but we already used up about half when we broke into the ministry."

" _You broke into the ministry?_ " Blaise yelled incredulously.

"Don't start, mate, you already know how suicidal they can be," Draco shook his head, having heard the absurd story from Hermione a week ago. He still had no idea why they had done it, but she had assured him that it was vital to their role in the war.

"Why didn't I hear about this?" Blaise said loudly, his mouth still gaping open in surprise.

"Rosier told me they wanted to keep it under wraps. They were a bit embarrassed by the whole thing," Draco said with a wry smile.

"Excellent," Blaise exclaimed at last, giving Hermione an approving look over, and making her blush.

Draco, however, frowned and turned back to her.

"You got separated from Potter and Weasley,…?"

She nodded brusquely.

"Yes but the potion was in our tent, which was charmed to stay hidden- it would have transported back to Ron when he was out of danger."

Blaise gave a low whistle, looking impressed.

"So exactly _why_ did your two lesser halves break into Gringotts? I doubt they just woke up one day and thought 'hey, let's infiltrate the most secure facility in the wizarding world. That'll be a laugh.'"

Hermione's eyes flickered between the two of them. She looked a bit uncertain, and he could tell by the way she tapped her foot with nervous energy that she didn't want to say anything. For about a month now she had been very evasive in telling him what she and the moronic duo had been doing all year. It had been frustrating at first, but he had finally understood that it wasn't because she didn't trust him personally, and more that the secrecy was ingrained so deeply into the three of them by Dumbledore that telling anyone no matter how close would be a betrayal of that secret. He had only managed to piece this much together through the little snippets she revealed to him, and even then he really had no idea what kind of mission they were on at all. Eventually she lowered her eyes and spoke in a low, tentative voice.

"I think I know why they might have gone there. I have my suspicions, but I'm surprised that they figured it out…"

Draco smirked.

"You mean you're surprised they figured it out _without you._ "

Her lips twitched a bit and she nodded.

"I suppose. But somehow they managed the whole heist by themselves. Harry is exceptionally good at getting out of tight spots."

Draco's scowl deepened as he thought hard over little bits of information he had gleaned recently. He watched her contemplatively for a few more seconds before a connection clicked in his mind.

"Wait…this doesn't have anything to do with the sword of Gryffindor that Bellatrix was going on about does it? The boys would have overheard that."

Hermione blanched and then glared at him. She looked very cross. In fact, she looked like she was one step away from stomping her foot petulantly. Draco chuckled and raised his hands in a show of mock defensiveness.

"Fine, fine! I won't ask any more questions. I wouldn't want you to get zits all over your face with the work _sneak._ "

Blaise spluttered and then somehow turned it into a laugh.

"That was a seriously cool hex," he said to Hermione, who blushed again and looked away, but not soon enough for Draco to miss the brief flash of savage pride on her face. He loved her vengeful streak.

"She deserved it," she muttered, and Blaise laughed again.

"Remind me never to double-cross you, Granger!"

Hermione shook her head with a soft laugh, but then the room turned tense again as she turned away to gaze out the window. Draco sighed and shared a meaningful look with Blaise. His friend seized the opportunity while the curly haired Gryffindor's back was turned to nod his head in her direction and move his brows up and down mischievously. He clearly mouthed the words " _Are you kidding me?"_ with a childlike grin, and Draco rolled his eyes. They both sobered quickly though when Hermione turned back around with an intense frown creasing her forehead.

"Did your sources happen to tell you whether anyone had tracked the dragon? Surely it didn't just disappear…"

Blaise nodded his head slowly.

"North apparently. It was monitored somewhere near Helga's Valley, but there was no sign of Potter or Weasley."

Hermione let out a huff of frustration. She was clearly wracking her brains hard, but seemed completely lost. Draco breathed in deeply and took a small step towards her.

"You want to go to them," he said quietly, and she met his gaze and nodded anxiously, her hands clenched in her already wild hair.

"I _have_ to find them. Harry needs me, because if they succeeded in doing what I think they did in that bank, then things are definitely coming to a head. Before this they were still just laying low. But now You-Know-Who won't stop until there's a real war."

Blaise gave a theatrical sigh and flopped inelegantly back into the couch.

"I suppose I could try to contact some people who could help find them, but I can't make any promises."

Hermione's eyes widened a little, her mouth quirking up hopefully.

"Really?"

Blaise began fiddling with an imaginary thread on his pants, not meeting her eye at all.

"I have a feeling I'm going to become involved in this mess whether I like it or not, so I may as well put out some feelers to help you find your friends."

"How is that possible?" Hermione asked with a touch of awe, and Draco snorted.

"Blaise has connections with _everyone_. Even some of your Gryffindors keep in touch with him. It's better if you don't know how he acquires them."

Hermione thought hard for a moment before she smiled a little bit conspiratorially in realisation. Her eyes flickered to the dark haired boy sitting proudly on the couch between them.

" _Oh…_ well don't worry, I'm actually fully aware of all the young ladies from Hogwarts that Blaise is likely to have recruited as his spies."

"Heard about me, have you?" Blaise asked with a cheeky smile and a wink, causing both Hermione and Draco to roll their eyes simultaneously. Hermione waved her hand dismissively.

"Well arrogant Slytherins aside… Blaise, thank you so much for offering to help. Are you sure that you'll be safe? I don't want you to be put in unnecessary danger."

"Well, it's definitely a risk, and I _could_ die in some horrific way. But I also really want to see everyone's reactions when they find out about you two, so I think I'd better hang around."

"How gallant of you," Draco sneered.

"I try my best. I don't suppose you're going to tell me what your big secret mission is, are you Granger? It might help."

Hermione smirked and shook her head.

"Nope. But I do value your help. Maybe once everything is over I can give you both a decent explanation."

Draco nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. His friend made a little humming sound and shot to his feet.

"Well I guess I'd better be going. I'll return here at the very latest the same time tomorrow to let you know how I go."

"Thank you, Blaise," Hermione said with a sincere smile.

"Don't mention it. Seriously, _don't_ mention it. I don't want to become known as some kind of bleeding heart Gryffindor."

"I promise," she laughed.

Blaise nodded once more and turned towards the door.

"I'll walk you out," Draco volunteered, exchanging a knowing look with Hermione and following his friend out the door and down the path towards the limit of the wards.

Once they had gone far enough away from the cottage, Blaise spun towards him and smacked him across the shoulder. Draco yelped.

"I cannot believe that you have been shacking up with Granger for three bloody months and you didn't even think to send me an owl!"

Draco glared at his friend.

"An _owl?_ What would I have said? Dear Blaise, I've betrayed my family and am currently shagging the most infamous Gryffindor of our age. Regards, Draco."

Blaise's eyes lit up and he leaned forward eagerly.

"So you _are_ shagging her then?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Blaise-"

"How is it? I always imagined that she would be a real firecracker beneath that prim exterior."

"Don't even-"

"I bet she'd get an Outstanding in that too…"

" _Blaise!_ I'd prefer not to discuss her with you."

Blaise gave a low whistle and looked him up and down.

"Wow… usually it's hard to _stop_ you talking about your conquests. This must be serious then."

Draco chuckled a bit uncomfortably and ran his hand through his hair.

"It is. You were right. I've been in love with her for longer than even I've been willing to admit. And I've been a damn fool too."

"I knew it," Blaise said triumphantly, "You always obsessed over her, even when you were a tiny little prat. You never gave a damn about any other muggleborns except her. You just wanted her to notice you."

"It used to kill me that I couldn't beat her at _anything,_ " he laughed.

"Except quidditch," Blaise suggested, but he just shook his head.

"Nah, she doesn't give a shit about quidditch or flying, so it doesn't really count."

Blaise nodded and hummed in thoughtful agreement.

"And besides," Draco added, "I won in the end. Because I got _her._ "

His friend snorted.

"Bloody hell, Draco, you've got it bad."

The two of them chuckled together for a moment before Blaise began to back away again towards the boundary. He stuck his arm out and they shook hands brusquely as he parted.

"See you soon," the other boy promised, and Draco nodded as he vanished with a cracking sound. Even though it meant Hermione would be leaving him to go fight in her war, he honestly did hope that Blaise found what she needed. He knew that this was so important to her, and as much as he hated the idea of her being in danger, or them being separated, he was finally willing to help her wholeheartedly, not just begrudgingly. With a smile he turned and headed back inside.

It seemed that Tilly had already sensed the mood in the house, because by the time Draco wandered through the empty living room and into the kitchen, she had laid out a cosy little romantic dinner for the two of them on the kitchen table. Hermione was unscrewing the cork from a bottle of wine when he entered, and she smiled softly at him.

"Isn't she sweet?" she said quietly, nodding her head towards the oven where the elf in question was magicking roast chicken and vegetables onto two plates.

"Wow, Tilly," he commented more loudly, taking a seat at the dining table as Hermione came over with the two glasses and took the seat next to him.

Tilly danced towards them with their plates hovering gracefully in mid air behind her. They placed themselves on the table with a soft clunk, and the elf beamed at them.

"Tilly is wanting everything to be perfect so that Miss Hermninny comes back to us."

Draco shook his head with a smile, as the curly haired witch gasped.

"How did you know I would be leaving soon, Tilly?"

Tilly's wide smile turned into a frown so quickly it was as if it had been flicked off like a light switch.

"Miss is packing all her things and searching far and wide for her other friends."

Hermione sighed sadly.

"Of course you noticed. Well yes, I do have to leave at some point soon. I'm very sorry."

Tilly scowled.

"Master will be very upset when you is leaving."

"That's very true, Tilly, Master _will_ be heartbroken," Draco said wryly, catching Hermione's eye meaningfully.

"Oh dear. I'm going to be sad to leave too, Tilly," Hermione added, and she really did look disappointed. Her shoulders had dropped and that crease between her brows had returned in full force, "but you have made this cottage _so_ beautiful and comfortable, that I will most definitely return as soon as I can."

Draco wasn't sure whose grin was wider – his or Tilly's. It was such a relief to hear Hermione's sweet, genuine words, that he really did hold hope that she would want to continue developing this new connection of theirs when everything was over. Tilly clapped her hands and gave a series of little curtseys as she backed out of the room.

"Miss Hermninny is so kind," she gushed, "I hopes you enjoys your dinner, Miss and Master."

"Thank you, Tilly," he murmured as she left, still looking intently down at his plate of food. After a short, slightly awkward pause, he raised his eyes to meet hers, and saw that she was smiling softly at him, her cheeks creased into adorable little dimples.

"I will come back," she promised softly, and Draco felt his heart thump louder. There was a light, floating feeling in his stomach completely separate to the hunger that gnawed at him, and it filled him with a longing so fierce that he had to snap his lips closed tight to stop himself from grinning madly at her. Instead he tried to just coolly dip his head towards her in acknowledgement, but most definitely failed to look calm about it.

"Well, love, as you so cleverly figured out… this is _your_ cottage," he said the words with deliberate emphasis, and her eyes widened slightly, "So you are of course welcome back here. I…" he paused, fiddling nervously with the stem of his wine glass, "I would really love to have you back here."

He watched as she bit her lip to hide a smile of her own, and he felt that warmth rise higher into his chest and settle there like a cloud of jubilant energy ready to consume him.

"Well okay then," she murmured softly.

"Okay," he agreed. There was a momentary pause where their gazes lingered on each other with something akin to heat, until she finally dropped her eyes to her plate of food.

"Well I suppose we'd better eat. I'm starving. And if Blaise returns with news… well…"

"Yes," he interrupted when she became a bit awkward, "Let's eat. Tilly obviously put in a lot of effort."

They were still a bit silent as they dug into their food, but it wasn't too uncomfortable after a while, they were just enjoying each other's presence while it lasted. Who knew what the next day would bring.

…..

When they went to bed that night, Draco felt nervous again. The last couple of days they had managed to find their rhythm with each other. He had gained a lot of confidence in showing his affection and his desire for her. It had become normal to wriggle up behind her and start to kiss her neck, or tickle her sides to draw out her playful side and make her squirm. Or even just kiss her hard and rough simply because he couldn't repress how much he wanted her any longer.

But now the air seemed tense between them once more. Her imminent departure hung over them like an ominous storm, waiting to blow in and rip into tiny fragments the sanctuary they had built around each other.

Hermione emerged from the bathroom already changed into the comfortable cotton pyjamas she wore to bed. He had slipped on a pair of shorts, but his chest was bare and he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lingered on him as she perched on the end of the bed and started to separate her hair into three equal strands to plait. Draco watched her hungrily as she twined the hair around itself. It wasn't easy by the looks of it, as she was wrestling with the more untamed tresses. But finally she managed to tug it into some kind of order. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, observing her as she twisted her fingers together restlessly, clearly not wanting to turn around and meet his eye.

"I'm sure your friends are fine," he said softly, trying to reassure her even though he wasn't overly concerned about their safety himself. He wasn't into all that "chosen one" bullshit that everyone else seemed to go on about. He would be just as happy to see this war won without Potter showing off his hero complex, or Weasley trying to act like a knight in shining armour in front of Hermione. Of course he didn't want them dead or anything; just imagining how deeply upset that would make Hermione turned his stomach. But it would be great if they just weren't a factor in this upcoming war. He could certainly do without the reminder of how important they were to her. What chance did he have against the two boys she looked on like brothers, especially when they inevitably voiced their disgust about _him_?

Hermion turned around at last, soothed by his kind words, even if she was aware that he didn't have strong personal feelings of concern himself. She gave him a sort of half smile that made her lips curl up slowly.

"That's not why I'm worried," she admitted quietly, and Draco frowned.

"It's not?"

She shook her head.

"No. I believe in my boys. They can take care of themselves _most_ of the time. It's you I'm worried about."

Draco gulped and wriggled forward to sit a bit closer to her.

"Why?"

She sighed.

" _I'm_ going to be returning to people who are familiar, comforting, supportive. It won't be a problem for me to endure what's coming, knowing as surely as I do that I'm with the ones I love. But you're going back into…well I guess I can't say the _lion's_ den…"

"The serpent's lair?" he suggested wryly and she nodded.

"Exactly! I am terrified about what you might be forced to see or do. And I feel so guilty that you're going to suffer because of me."

"Hermione," he gulped, confused about her fear for him, and reaching out to turn her jaw gently so that she was able to see him over her shoulder, "What do you mean because of _you?_ "

She let out a deep breath.

"Well…if it weren't for me, would you stay? Or would you run away if the opportunity presented itself? You could have taken up Blaise's offer to go to Europe. He sounded confident that he could protect you."

Draco grimaced and leaned his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her.

"It's a moot point, Hermione. You really don't have to worry yourself over this…"

"But I do! What if something happens to you?"

"It won't. I have a bloody good reason to stay alive. Because earlier when you said that you wanted to return here afterwards, it made start to think about all the things I want from my life. And none of those things are sitting waiting for me in Europe."

Hermione's eyes were glossy with unshed tears as she leaned her head back to rest in the crook of his neck. He stroked his fingers down the length of her newly tied plait in the hopes of easing her anxiety.

"Draco…please promise me you'll be careful. Don't do anything too brave."

He chuckled.

"I promise. Hey, I'm a Slytherin. We're survivors."

Hermione raised her head up and stared him directly in the eye.

"Ok. But if something happens to you-"

Draco pressed his finger to her lips, shushing her as he leaned in.

"Stop worrying," he murmured, his voice a gentle purr in her ear, before he kissed her hard, and it only took a split second before Hermione gave in and returned his kiss with hunger. They fell back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, and Draco had to almost bite his tongue to force himself to slow down.

The last few days had been all about exploring each other's bodies. They had both been so completely focused on the sensations of pleasure they could excite in the other, and each time they connected the sex was indeed unbelievably hot. Hermione was really just growing into these new experiences. She was jubilant, playful, curious and passionate even if a little uncertain at times.

But tonight was different.

Draco didn't want to rush things, or hurtle towards an end goal; he wanted to make love to her. He didn't have an easy time controlling his fevered need to take her in any and every position he could. But somehow he managed to last long enough to stroke every inch of her body gently, tenderly before he let himself submit to his own needs. And when he finally slid inside her, painfully slowly, she was already shivering beneath him in ecstasy. Her nails scorched down his shoulder blades so hard that he actually had to grab her hands and press them into the mattress above her head. Hermione just moaned louder and entwined her fingers with his, so that their hands were locked together in a timeless embrace as their bodies danced. Draco watched every second of emotion pass over her features. He watched the concentrated frown as she realised that her body was nearing its ascent, and the look of almost surprise when she soared to the edge so quickly. And finally he watched that expression that was almost agony as she called out her pleasure and he finally released his.

As they both wound down from their soaring highs, Draco became aware that his weight was resting fully on top of her, and he withdrew from her slowly, rolling slightly to one side and burying his sweaty forehead in the crook of her neck.

"I love you," he whispered hoarsely, placing a few gentle kisses on her salty skin as she tried to catch her breath. Eventually she worked up the energy again to speak.

"It seems so surreal to think that I might leave soon. I can't even imagine not being here with you anymore."

Draco lifted his head to place a gentle kiss on her ravaged bottom lip.

"Please come back to me," he murmured, nuzzling his face against hers as she returned his kiss just as softly.

"I will."

Draco knew that they were both far too exhausted and highly strung to have this kind of conversation now, so he placed one more final kiss on her lips and rolled further to the side, tugging her back to cuddle up against him. It was far too hot in their cosy little bedroom, but Draco didn't want to let her go. He clutched his hand underneath one of her hips, the other reaching up to rest between her breasts against her racing heart. In a sweaty mess, they draped their limbs over each other, neither of them asleep, but both just staring at the walls of their little haven and dreading what was to come.

….

 **Yes, things are speeding up. Poor Draco.**

 **I love reading all your lovely reviews and ideas, they really help inspire me to write faster. Please leave a comment. Thanks for following!**


	26. Departed

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Many of you are saddened by the upcoming separation, but I assure you that it's full steam ahead now, so there's no time to mourn! As always, JKR can speak Mermish!**

 **...**

Draco felt groggy and drained when he was awoken by a hammering on the front door. He blearily raised his head and his arm jerked from where it was draped weightlessly across the pillow. His heart stammered back to life as he sat up. His body was cold, covered only by a thin sheet, and the warmth next to him had dissipated, since Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

He winced when he realised that he must have overslept; it was unusual for him not to be woken when she stirred, but he had been physically exhausted from lack of sleep. They had woken each other up twice during the night, desperate to make the most of their time together before they might be parted or until they were facing the unknown. He still felt shivers crawl down his spine when he remembered the feeling of Hermione's warm mouth wrapped around him in the dark, her exploration curious and so very innocent.

Shaking his head so as not to be drawn back into the tantalising memories, he jumped out of bed as the knock sounded louder again. Draco threw on a pair of pants and a t-shirt and made his way out into the living room. Hermione was there, nursing a coffee in her hands and watching him with a faint smile of affection at his sleep-tousled state. She had clearly had a shower already, as her hair was damp and tied firmly into a plait draped over one shoulder, and she was dressed in practical, tight-fitting clothes. She looked ready for action.

"You should have woken me," he murmured hoarsely, walking towards the door. Hermione smirked and shook her head.

"But you looked so adorable."

Draco glared at her, trying to look dignified in his messy state and probably failing. He reached for the door to let Blaise in, trying not to show his surprise at how quickly his friend had returned. Because he had certainly come back to them much sooner than he thought he would.

Blaise strode into the room with a grin.

"Good morning. Hermione you look lovely as usual. Draco…well…I'm sure you'll tidy up."

"Fuck you, Blaise."

"Language, Draco," his friend scolded with an impish smile.

Hermione took a couple of eager steps forward, waving a little to get both of their attention.

"Well?" she asked, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, "What did you find out?"

"Okay, darling, I've got a variety of good and bad news. So why don't we sit down with a cup of Draco's delicious muggle coffee and talk about it."

"Alright, come into the kitchen," she agreed with a sigh.

The three of them wandered in there, Draco still trying self-consciously to pat down his hair, as the curly haired girl set about making three steaming cappuccinos. He felt himself already waking up and becoming more alert just from the smell of the beans grinding. The two boys settled into the stools at the centre counter, while Hermione leaned against the bench behind her, seemingly relaxed, but Draco could recognise the signs of tension and excitement in the set of her shoulders and the tight purse of her lips.

"Well," Blaise began after a couple of quick sips of his coffee, "Let's start with the bad news. You were absolutely spot on about You-Know-Who's reaction to this Gringotts breakout. Whatever they did in there, it got him mad. I mean _crazy_ mad. A couple of my friends have relatives who are in the inner circle, and they've all been relocated to the Hogsmeade area."

"Hogsmeade?" Draco asked with a frown.

"Yeh, apparently they're searching the area around the castle wards. He's obsessed with it. But he's gone off somewhere else and ordered them to stay there without him as a matter of some urgency."

"Why would he be so focused on Hogwarts?" he asked, but when he turned to Hermione, she was frowning intently and staring at a spot on the wall. Her brows were drawn in close together with that distinctive crease in her skin and her mouth had dropped open slackly.

"There's one in the castle…" she whispered to herself, and she seemed to be holding her breath as her eyes widened in realisation.

"What?"

Hermione's head shot up to meet his stare, as if she only just remembered they were still in the room with her.

"Nothing…" she shook her head slightly, snapping out of whatever deep thought she had been having, "so what else did you find out? Wasn't there good news too?"

"Well my _other_ contacts, on your side, have told me that your friends have also arrived at the castle. Padma Patil said that the alert has gone out to the Order of the Phoenix to rally there."

Hermione went pale and stood up straight, pushing off the counter with a hopeful smile.

"So Harry and Ron made it inside the castle?"

"Apparently."

She let out a sigh of relief, before looking Blaise up and down appraisingly.

"You really do have impressive contacts. Ones who seem eager to spill their secrets to you."

"I'm quite persuasive," he replied with a cheeky wink, and Hermione laughed. She clapped her hands together happily.

"Alright, so we can just go to Hogsmeade and find a way into the castle to meet up with them!"

Blaise shook his head.

"It won't be that easy. The place is crawling with Death Eaters, so it's going to be difficult to get near it."

"Well then we need to draw them away somehow…"

He drained his coffee and slapped the cup onto the counter.

"I can go a step better."

"What?"

He smirked a bit triumphantly and leaned forwards.

"I can get a message back inside and let them know you're coming so they can open the secret entrance. Padma said it would take you straight from the village into the heart of the castle."

"That's great!"

"So the only difficult part is going to be getting past the Death Eaters."

Draco frowned and leaned forward as well.

"I can help there. If I come with you I can distract them if needed."

Hermione gave him a warm smile. She clearly looked pleased that they would be able to stick together a little bit longer.

"Thank you."

Draco held her gaze a second longer before he turned back to his friend, who was looking pretty smug right now.

"So what's your plan then, Blaise? You going to return to Europe?"

Blaise shook his head, the corner of his lip twitching upwards into a smile.

"No, I think I might come with you, if that's ok."

"What? I thought you didn't want to get involved."

The wavy haired Slythering shrugged, trying his best to look nonchalant, but not really succeeding.

"Yes, well…if this is going down at Hogwarts then I should be there."

When Draco and Hermione both exchanged a confused look, he grimaced and continued.

"Look…half the kids in Slytherin are just like me. They don't want to be a part of this. They don't have any ties to the Death Eaters, but that won't matter to anyone else – on _either_ side. So who's going to take care of them?"

Draco's mouth curled up into a slow smile as he watched his best friend squirm nervously in his chair. Hermione was also looking at him with wide, surprised eyes that conveyed a well of emotions, but mostly compassion.

"Blaise…that's very noble of you," he said quietly.

"Yeh, well…just don't go on about it alright?"

"You always were a much better prefect than me," he admitted with a sheepish smile. Hermione snorted and nodded in agreement. Blaise blushed a bit, and kept his eyes downcast.

"It's just not fair to them. They deserve to have someone sticking up for them, and helping them get to safety if things turn ugly."

"Wow…" he said, giving a low whistle.

"Shut up," Blaise sneered, glaring at him, "and besides, if I stay here I might get a front row seat to the inevitable drama when you two both come out."

Hermione chuckled.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said sarcastically.

Draco finished off the rest of his coffee and jumped to his feet.

"Well that's it then," he said in a slightly awed voice, unable to really believe that things were happening so fast, "I'd better just go have a quick shower and get dressed while you arrange things with your "contact". Then we can go."

"Sounds like a plan," Blaise said, making his way quickly through the kitchen towards the door, "I'll be back in about an hour."

"Thank you again, Blaise," Hermione said with a smile so bright she could have lit up the entire room. Blaise just nodded once and left the house, his crack of apparition reverberating back across the hillside.

"One hour," she echoed numbly as she turned back to face him, and Draco smiled reassuringly, even though it seemed a bit shaky at the edges.

"One hour," he agreed.

….

Hermione and Draco were clenching their hands together tightly as they followed Blaise out of the cottage later. They were dressed in sturdy, practical clothes, and both were holding their wands tightly like a vice by their sides, preparing to apparate.

Before they vanished, Draco glanced across and watched as Hermione turned to look back on the sleepy little cottage nestled into the trees of the hillside woodlands, winter having given way to a stunning array of spring blossoms that hugged the little house like a blanket of spring. There was a look of anguish on her face as her eyes roved over the cottage, taking in every last detail hungrily. Draco smiled sadly and squeezed her hand in his. She turned to meet his gaze and returned the smile, sniffling slightly as she huddled closer to him.

"I'm going to miss our little home," she said in a low murmur, too soft for Blaise to overhear them, "I was very happy here, probably too much considering there was a war going on."

Draco felt that warmth tug at his chest, that feeling he recognised as the overwhelming pain he got when he was confronted by the weight of his love for her. It made him feel delighted and terrified all in one gasp of air.

"You made _me_ happy here, too," he responded quietly, and she smiled and leaned over hurriedly while Blaise wasn't paying attention and placed a chaste kiss on his lower lip.

"I'm glad," she said, before their little party of three stopped by some rocks and Blaise spun back to face them.

"Okay, now try your best to land there accurately, because if you overstep the destination then you might stumble on some Death Eaters. They've been wandering the village all day."

Hermione nodded, and Draco gave her hand a last little stroke with his thumb before they dropped their hold. Then the three of them raised their arms and disapparated all at once. He felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly as his vision funnelled and stretched around him in a split second. A shooting sensation of nausea gripped his gut and it felt like the ground had fallen out from under him. Then his body jolted back into awareness as he appeared inside the dingy old front room of the Hog's Head pub. It was empty except for the three of them standing huddled in the corner of the room all trying to catch their breath. Blaise raised a finger to his lips to gesture for silence, before he beckoned them across the room towards a door. The wooden floorboards and beams above were all a little creaky, and the place had a dusty, dishevelled appearance about it. Although it was the middle of the afternoon, there was little to no light coming in, and it appeared as though up here towards the north of Scotland that the snow was still blowing in occasionally to blanket out the sun.

When his friend opened up a doorway for them, the three crept inside and down a winding, rickety stairway that eventually led into a basement. There was no sign of the grumpy pub owner who Draco knew from a couple of sneaky visits with his friends could be extremely strict about the rules. He assumed that Blaise had warned him about their arrival and he had decided to stay right away from them.

Blaise walked up to the single painting that was on the wall; a quaint little pastoral portrait of a young girl.

"It's time to fetch them," he whispered to the girl, and she just smiled sort of vaguely and walked back into the frame until she was nothing more than a black speck, leaving behind her empty, desolate fields.

"I think that was Arianna Dumbledore," Hermione whispered.

"Huh?" he asked in confusion, not sure why she was struck by this sudden idea. But she just shook her head curtly.

"Never mind," she replied quietly.

There was a louder creaking sound from above which might have just been the usual wear and tear of the pub, but all three of them looked up with wide, fearful eyes as though they were caught out after curfew. Nothing else suspicious could be heard, but Draco still took a couple of steps up from the basement partially into the stairwell to keep an ear out for anything approaching.

"She's coming back," Blaise muttered, and the three of them watched in mild surprise as the girl from the portrait returned slowly, with what seemed like two other figures. When she reached the centre of the frame again, she smiled almost sadly and pushed forwards. As she did, the picture groaned and creaked off the wall, revealing a gap that led to a hollow space beyond.

They peered cautiously at the space, and as they did a pair of hands pushed the hole wider revealing two dark figures.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped with a little squealing sound to her voice.

And sure enough as the painting was pushed back, the bespectacled, scruffy haired figure of Harry bloody Potter clambered down into the room. The moment his feet touched the ground, his mouth dropped open at the sight of Hermione, and the two of them threw their arms around each other. Harry had a wide, disbelieving smile on his face as he held her tightly, and Draco felt a clench of envy in his chest at their natural closeness. She drew back from him as the other figure climbed down, with a shock of orange hair and a stupid grin on his face. The three of them all embraced each other. They held on tightly for a few moments just absorbing the happiness of finding themselves together again. Draco hated the way Weasley's arm wrapped around Hermione's waste possessively.

"Mione! What are you doing here? How did you escape?"

""We thought you were still trapped somewhere with the Malfoys."

"I can't believe you escaped Gringotts on a dragon!"

The three of them were babbling at each other for a few seconds, then when they realised that none of them were answering their rapid questions, they burst into amused, joyful laughter, still sort of clinging to each other.

"What happened?" Potter said at last, and it was only then that the boys raised their eyes to the rest of the room. They both looked directly at Blaise, and he gave them a cheeky smile in return, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Zabini?" Weasley asked in confusion, glaring a bit doubtfully at the Slytherin boy who was looking for all the world like he was going to really enjoy this. Then Draco realised that they hadn't seen _him_ yet, because he was concealed partially in the staircase, so he took the couple of steps down and into the room, where the faint yellow light from a candle bracket revealed his features and his distinctive blonde hair.

Potter was the first to react, and it seemed as though everyone in the room was surprised by how quickly the boy who lived acted. He had always been good at DADA, but the speed with which he flicked his wand was still shocked Draco.

"Expelliarmus," he shouted, and Draco felt his wand propelled out from his hand with a sting of magic, as Potter caught it and continued to point his own wand at his chest.

Hermione made a noise of dismay and stepped in front of him, blocking him from any further spells Potter might cast, and Weasley as well who had by now finally managed to clamber for his own wand stupidly in his back pocket.

"No, Harry. Don't!" she said frantically, keeping her voice low enough so that they wouldn't be heard. It didn't matter because he knew Blaise had placed a silencing charm on the room as soon as they'd entered, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Potter stared at her with wide, worried eyes, his gaze flicking over to Draco against the wall once or twice before he turned back to his curly haired friend.

"Hermione, what the hell is that evil git doing here?"

His witch sighed and raised her hands with palms open in a placating gesture.

"It's alright, Harry. He's not going to harm us."

"Have you lost your mind? He's a Death Eater!"

Draco pursed his lips, trying not to retort with any harsh words of his own. He figured it was best to let Hermione tackle her two friends, because his involvement was likely to just cause more problems.

"Harry, listen to me-"

"Get away from him, Hermione. He might hurt you."

"He won't. Draco is the one who got me out of the manor-"

That turned out to be a big mistake, because while Potter just looked stunned and vaguely suspicious, the weasel pushed forwards with a flustered, red face, his expression belligerently furious.

" _Draco?_ Why are you calling him Draco?"

Hermione let out a heavy breath. She basically ignored the freckled git's interruption in favour of looking the Boy-Who-Lived in the eye with as much sincerity as she could. Draco knew that look very well, and how intimidating it could be.

"Harry. Please lower your wand. Draco is the reason I'm alive."

"So he's led you to believe," the dark haired boy said in a low, angry voice.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she retorted, clearly getting frustrated.

"No, of course not. But there's no way I'm going to trust _him_."

Hermione was starting to really cross. Draco could feel the tingle of anger ripple across her magic, and she practically stomped her foot.

"Harry Potter, lower your damn wand!"

The Boy-Who-Lived looked shocked, but he slowly did as she said, even though his glare did not dissipate. The Weasel king on the other hand, was still shaking his wand angrily, his face flushed and humiliated from being ignored.

"No way! She's under the imperius or something, Harry! Let's tie him up and stun him or wipe his memory."

Blaise smirked gleefully and took that moment to chime in.

"This is everything I hoped it would be."

Draco gave him a warning look, just as Hermione snorted, though she didn't move or turn her stare away from Potter, who she was staring down intently.

"Can you please just let me explain? I promise I'm not under any kind of spell or potion or influence."

Potter looked a bit lost for a while, clearly thinking things through and watching the witch with hooded eyes until finally he nodded slowly.

"Okay. But first… who did I think cast that patronus at the end of third year?"

Hermione took a deep breath, smiling sadly.

"Your dad," she said softly, and the messy haired wizard nodded with a grimace.

"Good. At least I know it's really you."

Hermione's smile widened and she looked grateful when Potter gave the ginger haired moron a glare that seemed to convince him to lower his wand too, though he did it very reluctantly. Potter then took hold of Hermione's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Alright then. Tell me what happened."

Hermione breathed in deeply and shot a glance towards the Slytherin boys. She smiled reassuringly at Draco before she began.

"After your escape at the manor distracted everyone, Draco managed to get me out of there using his own house elf, and he did it without blowing his cover. I was taken back to another property that he owns where he healed me and I've been staying there ever since. I had no idea how to find you and Ron, and it took a long time to get better… but finally Blaise here was able to track down some information and he brought us here." She said all this very quickly, and Draco couldn't help but smirk at her totally inadequate summary of events. It really gave very little away, but that was probably for the best. Potter frowned, but his anger was continuing to fade with every moment of Hermione's explanation. He obviously had a lot of faith in his friend.

"And how do you know that Malfoy isn't just tricking you at You-Know-Who's request?"

"Standing right here," he piped in with a sneer.

"That's the problem," Potter retorted bitingly.

Hermione squeezed her friend's hand to win his attention back, stepping close to get her point across.

"Harry, I've been living with him now for almost three months. I _know_ he's not still fighting for their side. Not really. He's willing to help _us._ "

Potter's brows shot up on his forehead then, and he looked past her and straight at Draco. He swallowed and stepped forwards a little.

"Is this true?" Potter asked him seriously, and he paused for a moment before nodding.

"Hermione and I have already organised a way of communicating. I have one of her galleons from your little club in fifth year. We can both send and receive messages."

Weasley had had enough at this point. He clearly didn't like the way Potter seemed to be caving. He made an outraged scoffing sound and made a threatening step towards them, looming over Hermione.

"This is insane. The stupid ferret is just trying to spy on us!"

"No, Ron" Hermione pleaded, "Please, just trust me on this."

"He must have done something to you, or tricked you."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Weasley. I'm a good actor, but not _that_ good. And Hermione isn't easily fooled."

Potter narrowed his eyes then, and Draco shut his mouth so that he didn't give away too much.

"I think if you're waiting for them to hold your hand and sing kumbaya, then you could be waiting a while," Blaise said with a smirk. Hermione just groaned and stomped her foot again.

"It doesn't matter if you don't trust him yet. You should trust _me._ And Draco. Saved. My. Life," she said each word with deliberate emphasis, "I am indebted to him and I believe in him. So just…stop being so bloody annoying and grow up!"

There was a brief pause of surprise, before Potter started to chuckle.

"Alright, Hermione… wow. I really missed you," he smiled and gave her a quick hug, "I'm not going to pretend I like it, but you've never let me down before."

"Huh, maybe I was wrong," Blaise said in surprise, "I'll bring my guitar."

Ron was enraged not only by the way that the other Slytherin was making light of things, but also at the fact that everyone in the room seemed to be calming down when he was still furious at Draco's presence.

"This is unbelievable-"

"SHHH." Blasé shushed everyone with a gesture of his hands, his amused expression sobering in an instant as he looked towards the ceiling. "No more time to argue with you, Weasel-face," he whispered, "we've got company nearby."

Hermione's eyes widened as she spun around and caught Draco's gaze. They shared a look of anguish that conveyed a hundred different thoughts and wishes, knowing what was coming.

"What is it?" Potter murmured.

"Death Eaters."

Blaise hurried towards the portrait, opening it again to reveal the passage.

"We need to go," he said urgently.

"Wait…no-" Hermione began, staring at Draco fearfully. He took a couple of steps towards her, his heart pounding as his skin broke out into a sudden cold sweat.

"It's okay," he murmured reassuringly, "We already talked about this. I've got to go. It will give you time to get through the passage without them tracking you."

"But…" her eyes flickered around the room. Blaise was smiling slightly but trying to pretend he was staring at something on the wall. Potter was looking at them with a mixture of horror and confusion. Weasley looked livid.

"What are you going to do?" Potter asked suspiciously.

"Distract them," he answered simply.

Draco knew that it was probably not a good idea to show any affection in front of her already irate friends, but there was certainly a possibility that this could be the last time he saw her. If things didn't go well for him then this would be their final goodbye. So, uncaring about their audience, he took hold of her face and pulled her to him to kiss her hard and passionately. He held the kiss for only a couple of seconds, short enough that Weasley couldn't react badly by punching him or anything. Then he parted from her. They leaned their foreheads against each other as they took a couple of quick panting breaths to recover, before he drew away. As he did, Potter quickly shoved a wand at him, his face still looking dumbfounded. The wood felt different in his hand, but he was in too much of a hurry to really notice.

"We have to leave now," Blaise repeated. Draco's eyes darted to his friend and he gave him a serious look.

"Take care of her," he muttered.

"I will," the other Slytherin promised, giving Draco one final nod of assurance.

"I love you," he said to her as he backed away, "Don't forget to keep in touch," he tapped his hand on his pocket where the coin was hidden. Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but with the opening of a door above, he was already spinning away quickly, his heart thudding with worry that they could be found. As he started to sweep up the round staircase, he heard Weasley spluttering incoherently in total shock and horror, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling briefly in victory.

Then his heart plummeted as he realised that he may have just walked away from Hermione forever, depending on what happened next. He closed his eyes and whispered a silent plea that she would be safe. Now it was time to face his greatest fear and play the role of Death Eater for hopefully the last time.

...

 **Thanks for reading. Oh no, what would Hermione have said if he hadn't left so soon? Reviews are inspiration!**


	27. Twisted

**Author's Note: Hello all. Sorry for the longer update time, it's a busy time at work and I desperately need a holiday of some kind. If you hadn't realised this already, we are indeed up to the Battle of Hogwarts! Much action ahead. As always, JKR is a fizzing whizbee!**

 **….**

The evening was darkening, casting an ominous red haze over the horizon that made Hogsmeade seem more desolate, nestled half in the shadows of the surrounding mountains. Draco's skin was crawling unpleasantly as he followed behind a couple of Death Eaters as they made their way through the mains street, kicking on doors every now and then to harass people. He had managed to draw their attention away from the Hog's Head surprisingly easily; they weren't the brightest members of the fold. All he had needed to say was that he had already checked that building, and they just grunted in acceptance and walked on. Idiots.

Luckily they didn't seem to want to pay much attention to him, wrapped up in their own petty squabbles with each other. That meant his mind could shift away to think about what Hermione was doing right now. He thought that their confrontation with Potter and Weasley had been fairly tense, but it also could have been a lot worse. In fact, in the end Potter had seemed almost willing to listen to his friend and begin to accept what she had to say about Draco being on their side. It would certainly help them if she had his support in translating messages back and forth. And Potter clearly respected and trusted Hermione. Of course, that had been before Draco planted a big kiss on her. That had probably set them back a few steps. He didn't really give a shit what Weasley thought. As long as the ginger didn't try to muscle in on his territory he would just ignore him. Though he wouldn't deny the petty, almost childlike flutter of glee he felt at the look of sheer outrage on the other's boy's face when he had kissed Hermione. He was quite happy to let the moron stew in his anger for as long as he could.

Draco was also incredibly happy that Blaise had gone with them. He knew that his friend would look out for her no matter what. And he couldn't help but be incredibly moved by Blaise's determination to help the Slytherins. No one really thought about them as ever needing help. In fact, most people would probably just accuse them of being Death Eaters if it came down to a fight. They had always been the most misunderstood of all the houses.

Enough time had passed that he was starting to feel quite uneasy. He didn't know what the golden trio was doing inside the castle that was clearly so important, but he hoped that they were keeping a low profile. Draco hated that she was right in the path of danger, fighting at Potter's side. She was his muggleborn best friend; to think that she _wouldn't_ be targeted would be naïve.

At that moment the three of them – Draco and the two lower ranked Death Eaters – all cringed in pain as the sting of a summoning flared up their arm, the burn beginning in the skull shaped centre of the dark mark. The two men cursed loudly, shattering the eerie peace of the village.

"I swear if we get sent on any more useless bloody errands chasing the fucking Potter kid I'm going to eat my own arm off."

"I'm with you, this little shit needs to burn and die already. Just to give us a break."

Draco rolled his eyes at the two men, tired of their whining. But it was interesting to hear that there were voices of dissent among the ranks. Clearly many of them felt it was beneath them to hunt down one annoying kid when they felt they had better things to be conquering. They were probably hoping to pillage their way through Wizarding England, and instead they get posted to finding a teenage boy who hadn't even finished school. Draco wondered curiously whether it could have any impact on the coming conflict if there were others out there, doubting their loyalty to the cause. Of course guys like these were all scum when it came down to it, but if they were wavering in their confidence towards the Dark Lord, then that could only act in his favour. It helped that half of them were brainless morons.

"So what did he say you should do if Potter appears?" he asked casually as they walked towards an apparition point, since Hogsmeade had been warded to stop people from disapparating. They'd been able to get in earlier, but no one could get out. It was basically a trap. Draco figured he might as well use this time to try and get some information. The smellier of the two men snorted and huffed out a wheezing laugh in response.

"We're supposed to hold onto the little bugger. No one's allowed to kill him," the man broke out into a sweaty toothed sneer, spitting on the ground in front of them, "Bullshit. If I see him or his little friends I'm going to fry them."

"You'll be punished. Probably killed," Draco said dryly, not really caring for the man's life as such, just trying to make the guy more wary in case he did run into the trio. The man looked nervously over at him.

"Come on. Killing Potter? I'd be honoured above everyone."

Draco actually laughed out loud then.

"You're delusional."

"Huh?"

"He'd slaughter you," he said with a shrug.

"Seriously?"

Draco nodded, striding on ahead of them and smiling to himself as he heard the two of them whispering madly together, their heads close as they discussed whether he was telling them the truth. Maybe both of them would think twice now before hurling unforgiveables at Potter, Weasley and Hermione.

They finally climbed the hill to an apparition point and Draco spun around and vanished with a crack, wanting nothing more than to leave the two foul men behind him. He arrived at a clearing in the forest that lay outside the grounds of Hogwarts, which eventually blended into and became the forbidden forest beyond the castle wards. He sauntered towards the group of black robed figures standing around in groups, milling about and talking in low voices. There was no sign of the Dark Lord. Draco caught sight of his father's blonde head and immediately turned the other way, trying to cross to another group. But it was too late. His father spotted him and strode over, slapping a hand on his shoulder and frowning up at him. Draco was savagely pleased that he was now taller and more imposing that Lucius. It helped him stare the older man down and not be cowed by his disapproval.

"You're late," Lucius murmured, "Where have you been?"

Draco sighed.

"I was in Hogsmeade. We had to travel a fair way. As if it matters, since _he's_ not here yet."

Lucius hissed a little, glaring at him.

"Don't be so blasé, Draco. You've barely been around lately. Don't think I haven't noticed your lack of support."

Draco shook his head, having to grind his teeth together to stop himself from saying all the things that were boiling inside him wanting to bubble over.

"Don't worry, _father,_ I am going to be out there fighting for what's right in the end. Don't underestimate my commitment to what I believe in."

Of course Lucius missed the hidden meaning behind his words. He just scowled more darkly, and gave Draco that expression of disgust that he had become numb to as a child. It had stopped hurting him long ago.

"Just make sure that you're willing to die for the cause."

Draco smiled, thinking of Hermione sitting on his couch, reading a book and biting her lip as she concentrated, her legs tucked underneath her and her toes wiggling against his thigh.

"Oh I am," he promised with quiet assurance, giving his father a twisted grin before walking away. He felt Lucius burn holes through his back with his glare, but he didn't give a shit. He hoped his father lived long enough to figure out that he was double crossing them and working on the Order's side. Or that he was going to be "shacking up", as Blaise put it, with the famous Gryffindor muggleborn. He'd love to see the dumbfounded, horrified expression on the older man's face. It would almost pay him back for the childhood that he had filled with his spite and prejudice.

Draco decided to mingle a bit, wandering around and chatting to as many high-ranking Death Eaters as he could to try and glean some information. It seemed like they were there for hours just waiting as the sun gradually dipped down below the horizon and the landscape was plunged into darkness. But surprisingly few of the wizards or witches there knew what was going on. Finally there was an electric ripple of light and a whooshing sound as the Dark Lord appeared in the clearing. His robes were crusted with a thin layer of dirt, and he seemed almost haggard. His eyes were wider than their usual slits, and were a deep red colour as if he had been awake for days. To be honest, he looked like he belonged in a loony bin – well, more than usual. His expression was thunderous, lost in his own world of crazed thoughts. Draco shivered a bit and drew on his occlumency walls more tightly, focusing everything on keeping them smooth and intact so as not to arouse any suspicion.

Voldemort looked around at the large group of Death Eaters, probably about forty or fifty of them, and finally gave a monstrous smile of his cold, cruel lips. Draco had no idea how a smile could look so terrifying, but he was instantly chilled to his core. The Death Eaters nervously shuffled towards him, forming a sort of misshapen circle. Most were merely holding their masks by their sides, their identities revealed to the world until the real battle started.

" _My friends…_ " he hissed, and although his voice was soft, it was heard by everyone as clear as shattering glass as it echoed around the looming trees above them, "Many of you are here today not knowing why I have called you all together, while some of you have your suspicions I am sure. At this very moment, Harry Potter is inside the castle," the Death Eaters made low murmurs of disgust and shuffled their feet when they heard the name, "The Carrows have warned me that he is calling the Order to him, and they have found some way into Hogwarts that evades our security."

There was another wave of mutters, as many questioned each other quietly on how all these people could have gotten past them. They were supposed to be guarding the area after all.

"I _should_ punish you for your incompetence," the Dark Lord spat, "But there is no time. Tonight is the night we end this. We are going to claim what is rightfully ours from these traitors and filth. Tonight we take the castle, kill Harry Potter and become immortal."

His little speech seemed to rally everyone up, as there was a raucous burst of jeering and applause that reached an unsettling crescendo before Voldemort held up his hands once more for silence.

"Your loyalty will be rewarded at last, my humble servants. This castle represents the pitiful resistance of Albus Dumbledore, whose corpse lies desiccating in his tomb," more jeers and hisses came from the crowd at the mention of Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord smiled indulgently at them, "and soon their precious hero, the _Chosen One_ Potter will be rotting in there with him."

The agitated cheering that began then, like a fever of sadistic excitement spreading over the group, was deafening. Draco clapped his hands together loudly to follow suit, but he couldn't bring himself to open his mouth to say anything or make a sound in case he was sick. The odds were looking pretty bleak. There were a lot of very violent, highly trained wizards and witches here, and up against the smattering of Order members and inexperienced students in the castle, this was starting to look bad.

As the rabble-rousing noise started to fade, there was another whoosh of air similar to earlier, and the black-cloaked figure of Severus Snape appeared. He looked a bit ruffled, but his eyes still swept around the crowd and spotted Draco there. His face remained expressionless, but Draco could tell that he had understood the message loud and clear just from his presence alone, that he was here to help, to fight as a double agent too.

"Ah, Severusss," Voldemort watched his spy approach a dangerous look that was halfway between a threat and a smile, "What news from the castle?"

Snape appeared a touch apprehensive as he stood before the Dark Lord. Draco noticed that the dark man was watched with awe by some of the surrounding followers, but with suspicion by a select few, particularly Bellatrix, who looked like she was about the breath fire on him. But Draco was sure that the man's anxiety was not apparent to most of them.

"My Lord," Snape began, dropping quickly to one knee, his voice deep and confident despite the circumstances. He waited for Voldemort to gesture at him with one bony hand before he rose to his feet again and continued talking. "The boy is indeed at Hogwarts. He has infiltrated the castle through a secret passage of some kind, and is now searching for something in the north tower."

At those last few words, Voldemort hissed, and his snake-like nostrils flared a bit in a terrible expression of rage. Draco shuddered. It seemed Hermione had been right about him now knowing or realising whatever secret mission it was they were on. He had never looked more insane than he did right now.

"And how is it, my _faithful_ follower, that you come here to me now without the boy? Did you not think to bring him to me?" His tone was extremely cold, his words crisp, and Draco could see the subtle signs of his godfather cringing in preparation for his punishment.

"My Lord…he was being protected by the other professors. I tried to get information out of Minerva McGonagall, but she attacked me. It seems they are readying themselves to fight. I only just made it out of a window near Ravenclaw Tower so that I could return to you with this information."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed at his spy, and Draco felt a wave of revulsion as he saw something move slowly from behind the luminous folds of his robes. It was the snake Nagini. She slithered out indolently across the grass, passing in a circle once around Snape and returning to her master. Draco fucking hated that snake. She was creepy enough to make him almost wish he'd never been a Slytherin, and that was pretty hard to accomplish. Voldemort looked down at her with a tremulous smile that stretched his face unnaturally and patted the top of her head.

"It is time," he murmured so quietly that the words were nearly blown away by the wind, but the silence in the circle was so deafening he was still audible to all. He raised his voice then, speaking out in a higher pitch, "I have already spoken a message to those inside the castle. They have ignored my instruction to release Potter to us. Time is almost up. Come. Let us destroy them."

The yell of excitement reverberated around the crowd again, growing louder as the group started to move off through the forest. They were making their way towards the wards of the castle. As they did, Draco moved forwards with them at a slow pace, keeping up as part of the group, but not jumping to the front or rushing ahead like some of the sycophants. Somehow he and Snape managed to casually find their way next to each other, and they exchanged a quick glance of concern before they directed their eyes ahead of them again. After a hard trek through the forest, the big black iron gates of the school materialised out of the misty darkness. The hulking stone figures on either side of the gate rumbled and shook the ground beneath them in warning as they approached, which caused the frontrunners to start to inch forward cautiously.

"Let's break it down!" A voice yelled from the back, and at once the spells started to fly at the gates, fracturing the magic bit by bit. Draco flicked a few spells of his own, and next to him he saw Snape do the same, but neither of them were putting much force behind it. The air was filled with the cracking of magic against the barrier on the gates. It was like a violent thunderstorm that reverberated around the valley and up towards the castle. With no one around them paying attention, or even able to hear them, Snape shuffled a step closer so that they were side by side.

"Is she in there?" the dour potions professor asked out the side of his mouth. Draco turned his head towards him slightly to respond in a quiet voice.

"Yes. So is Blaise. He went in to help the Slytherins."

He saw Snape's chest rise and fall once heavily in a sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin. I wasn't sure what would happen to them."

It was getting close to midnight, and the Death Eaters were well on their way to breaking through the wards. That gate wouldn't last much longer, despite Hogwarts's powerful defences.

"Draco, I need you to do something for me."

He was so surprised by his godfather's quiet, urgent voice that he actually spun to face him. With spells flying past them and lighting up the night sky like festival fireworks, he could clearly make out Snape's pleading look.

"What is it?" he asked with wide eyes.

"If you see Potter tonight… it's vital that he find me. I have something I need to give him."

Draco looked surreptitiously around him, checking to see if anyone was listening. But of course Snape would never risk this if he weren't certain. Sure enough no one was paying them any attention.

"Um…of course. Yes, of course I will," he said in a soft, reassuring voice. Snape just stared at him for a few moments, checking that he was being sincere, then he nodded and turned back to the situation at hand and Draco did the same. The gate in front of them was now alight with magic, ready to crack open and expose an entrance into the grounds beyond. Even the toughest wards couldn't withstand a force as potent as this. He couldn't help but notice that Voldemort himself was nowhere to be seen. He obviously felt it was beneath him to join the pawns on the battlefield.

As the shattering of the gate pierced the night, Draco took a deep breath and slipped his Death Eater mask reluctantly over his face. It was time. He hurriedly reached into his pocket and drew out the galleon that Hermione had given him. Clenching it in his fist, he thought his message a few times to be certain, and then unfurled his fingers to read it, to make sure it had worked.

 _We're coming._

….

From the moment the battle started, it was chaos. The first thing that had met the Death Eaters when they broke through the gate had been the shrill wailing of mandrake roots, and venomous tentacula vines bending the earth and ripping up the path. They were forced to scatter and spread out, making them weaker than if they'd held together as one unstoppable force. Draco didn't doubt that Professor Sprout was chuckling in her jovial way somewhere, watching the damage her precious plants caused.

Once they made their way closer to the castle itself, there were other obstacles to face. There were traps laid out on every bridge and entranceway, suits of armour charmed to defend, and even the foundations of the castle itself were reacting in a powerful way to the invasion. The castle knew it was under attack from a force that was dark and treacherous, and it was fighting to protect its students.

After a lot of ducking and weaving, Draco finally made it up and into one of the wings under the south tower. It had helped that he wasn't held up by skirmishes or fighting with anyone. He was trying to be as incognito as possible, staying out of sight and even using a disillusionment charm every now and then, since his magic wasn't being used up by hexes or spells.

His thoughts turned briefly to Tilly, and he hoped the little elf had followed his instructions. Before they had left the cottage he had told her to keep communicating with some of the elves in the kitchens at Hogwarts just in case he needed help getting Hermione out of there, or if either of them got hurt. Tilly had taken her task very seriously, and since she did actually have a few friends among those elves, it had been a fairly good idea just in case either of them were injured too badly to keep going.

As he ran through the castle, Draco saw a few familiar faces fighting. There was Remus Lupin, their defence professor from third year, fighting alongside Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. Hagrid was running around with his pink umbrella, followed by a lumbering giant that was destroying more of the castle itself than the enemy. He even saw one or two of his friends cowering in the midst of the mess. Obviously ones who had not made it out in the evacuation. Hermione had sent him a message in response saying that they were getting out the younger students, and he hoped that this included all four houses, and not just the Gryffindors.

Draco soldiered on until he managed to wind his way up a few staircases and down a long passage towards the north tower. Snape had told the Dark Lord that he had last seen Potter near Ravenclaw tower, so that was where Draco would start looking. He was determined to find Hermione. Until he was summoned back to Voldemort's side and could be useful once more, he would do everything in his power to protect her. He was perfectly happy to just hang around in the shadows or around corners, casting frequent shielding charms at her from a distance if necessary. As long as he knew that she was okay. He just had to try and make sure that he didn't blow his cover.

When Draco emerged into a small foyer near the base of the winding staircase of the Ravenclaw tower, he was hit by a brutal sensory wave of battle. The air was hot from spells flying around, as there were a few different duels going on. He recognised a couple of the people fighting for the Order who were ministry of magic workers, aurors probably, from when he used to go with his father. But all the Death Eaters were still cloaked and hidden. Draco retched a bit as he registered the smell of something putrid. He looked down towards his right hand side and saw a body lying there mangled, one whole side of their face a grotesque mask of burning flesh, and their limbs covered in scorch marks. He recognised the hex used as a specialty of a few of the more aggressive fighters among Voldemort's ranks who liked to use fire spells. He stumbled back a bit, tapping his wand hastily on his head to strengthen his disillusionment charm. The air was torn apart by screams from both sides, the heart wrenching kind of screams that haunted his nightmares from watching victims tortured by Bellatrix. Like Hermione. He shook his head and cast a few shield charms on the aurors who were struggling the most, ducking around the fight to a nearby corridor. It was a little quieter here, so he relaxed his charm just a bit, since it was a drain on his power.

" _DRACO!_ "

He spun around at once, wand raised stiff in his hand and a spell on his lips. He was already enunciating the hex when he saw the wavy hair and wide brown eyes of Blaise running towards him. He let out a rasping breath in relief.

"Blaise, thank Merlin."

His friend reached him quickly, placing his hands on his shoulders and checking him over. They inspected each other hurriedly for injuries and both slumped a bit into a more relaxed pose when they saw none.

"Fuck me," Blaise said, panting and stepping away to wipe the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead, "This is so fucking intense. I feel like I haven't seen you in days, but it's only been a few hours."

"I never… I didn't realise it would be like this," Draco stammered, his mind's eye still picturing that gruesome body charred and lying in the room behind them.

"Neither did I. I should have left with the bloody Slytherins."

"Why didn't you?"

Blaise frowned for a very brief moment and then looked at him with a tired but still mischievous smirk.

"What… and let you do all the heroic stuff by yourself? No way."

Draco chuckled. Then they both winced and ducked as a blast sounded somewhere to their right, making the castle walls tremble angrily in response. A shower of dust cascaded down on top of them. They shuffled to the side into an alcove, catching their breath.

"So where's Hermione?" he asked quietly but urgently, "What happened after I left?"

Blaise smiled again, his cheeky demeanour at odds with the sounds and smells of war that was so pervasive it was like a blanket smothering them.

"You certainly dropped a bombshell, didn't you? You could have just shaken her hand, but _no,_ you had to go in for the big kiss right in front of pissy Potter and Wank-too-much Weasley."

Draco smiled as well at the names.

"Well I wouldn't have wanted you to miss out on some entertainment."

"And I am very much indebted to you. It was like a dream come true seeing Weasley's face turn a shade darker than his hair. The moment we were in the tunnel and the entrance was sealed behind us, he started yelling abuse at her, calling her a traitor and you a murdering psychopath. You know…the usual."

"That fucking bastard-" Draco growled, hating the thought that he had caused Hermione any grief, all for the sake of his petty moment of triumph in front of the ginger menace.

"Don't worry," Blaise placated him, "Your witch is not to be messed with. She fired a fairly unusual spell at him which you might remember with some fondness."

"Oh?"

"Let's just say by the time we got out of that passage, the slug population in there had tripled."

Draco couldn't stop himself from bursting out with a harsh laugh. The memory of Weasley choking on slugs as they spilled out of his mouth was a source of constant delight and amusement. To think that Hermione had cast it on him in retribution for his foul words only made him love it more. It was like she was accepting him not only for who he was now, but also for the nasty little boy who had called her a mudblood for the very first time when they were only twelve.

"She's brilliant," he said with fierce pride in his voice.

"She's _scary._ But Potter on the other hand," Blaise continued, his smile turning a little evil as he watched Draco for his reaction, "he seems to think that you are one of the bravest people he's ever known."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I just don't understand these Gryffindory types. They trust every bloody person who comes their way. I'm surprised he doesn't just walk out there and present You-Know-Who with a bouquet of fucking lilacs and make peace."

"He must have finally gone mad from the pressure," Draco snorted. Blaise nodded in agreement.

"Once Hermione had explained your little rescue in more detail, he was determined to think of you as some kind of saint."

"Well as long as he doesn't try to name one of his children after me, then I think I can live with that."

Blaise let out a loud guffaw.

"But Michael Draco Potter has such a nice ring to it."

"Oh shut up."

Another blast shook the walls, and they both had to grip the stonework next to them to keep steady on their feet.

"So where is she now?"

"Can't you just contact her on your little coin?"

Draco clenched his fist fearfully, feeling the metal of the galleon heat in the palm of his hand, still sitting there from when he had used it earlier.

"I tried a few moments before you found me, but she didn't answer."

Blaise sighed and shrugged.

"Okay… well there was something about basilisks and destroying stuff. And then going to find a room of hidden things. It was all pretty much gibberish to me."

Draco blinked and then looked at his best friend with narrowed eyes.

 _Room of hidden things…_

His brows shot up and he pushed himself away from the wall with a triumphant smile.

"The Room of Requirement!" he announced, slipping the coin back into his pocket, and retrieving his wand.

"The what?"

"It's a moving room where…Never mind. I know where they're going."

Blaise just shrugged in agreement, gesturing for him to lead the way. Draco was filled with a nervous energy again that felt a lot like adrenalin. Even though his knees were shaking he had a firm grip on his wand as he held it out in front of him. Cautiously he entered the hallway again; glad to see it much emptier now. He took a moment to get his bearings, before the two Slytherin boys set off at a hurried pace towards the Room of Requirement and Hermione.

….

 **Thanks for reading. No Hermione in this chapter, but don't worry – she'll be back very very soon. I love and appreciate all your reviews. Please keep it up.**


	28. Scorched

**Scorched**

 **Author's Note: So here we are in the midst of battle! I would just like to remind readers that this story is really based predominantly off the books, so things that are only in the films may not happen. Your reviews are lovely, they make my day! As always, JKR is a famous curse-breaker at Gringotts!**

 **...**

Draco skidded to a halt outside the Room of Requirement. They had run here as fast as they could, ducking to avoid spells and debris that were flying around the castle. Between the two of them they had even managed to help. Blaise had concentrated on keeping them disillusioned while Draco shot a few nasty hexes at some of the dark figures in cloaks. He wasn't sure who he had hit, but it didn't really matter in the end. The Death Eaters were all fighting aggressively to kill and maim, while many of the students simply didn't know those kinds of darker spells. It wasn't really a fair fight. He had already saved one or two lives that had been close to slaughter at the tip of some maniac's wand. He was pretty sure that he had seen the mousy little face of Colin Creevey swiveling to stare around the space where he was disguised by Blaise's charm, his wide blue eyes confused but gratefully trying to locate his savior.

When he stopped suddenly outside the Room, Blaise ran straight into his back, jolting them both forwards a bit and almost pitching them over completely.

"Woah, watch it!" his friend whispered loudly, "What's wrong with you? Did you have an aneurysm?"

Draco tapped the top of his head to release the spell keeping him camouflaged.

"We're here," he replied curtly, turning to face the wall where the door was hidden.

Blaise's gaze drifted over the completely blank area of stone, with no divots or cracks to give it away, then back at the dull, oversized tapestry behind them, and then at Draco.

"It's very…impressive," he drawled. Draco snorted and waved his hand towards the wall.

"It's a hidden entrance you bloody prat."

Blaise frowned and looked a little bit sheepish.

"I knew that," he said defensively. The blonde Slytherin shook his head with a wry smile and started to pace back and forth in front of the space. It was like retracing his steps from the past, he had done this so many times in sixth year. He thought hard about finding a room where things could be concealed, crossing three times in front of the entrance. After the third time, a crack in the stone grew out of nowhere and widened until it became a doorway.

"Cool," Blaise commented simply, and they both hurriedly made their way inside before anyone could see them. Even as they crossed through and into the Room, they could both feel the ceiling of the corridor shudder as dust cascaded down on top of them. The door slammed behind them, and the silence that descended on them after the ferocious noises of battle was an unsettling contrast. Draco pocketed the Death Eater mask he had been carrying, raising his wand higher and concentrating on the room. He could hear Blaise whistling lowly beside him at the impressive sight of the jumble of old furniture and objects piled high around them like a towering city. They started to inch forwards into the room, around mounds of junk, and Draco automatically made his way slightly to the left towards that cursed vanishing cabinet. He looked up at it with a shiver of fear, remembering the horror of that night when the Death Eaters had come through. Fenrir Greyback had been savage, Bellatrix psychotic and Snape eerily calm. Draco still sometimes relived it in his nightmares.

"What is it?" his friend asked quietly, sensing his distress.

Draco sighed and pointed up at the cabinet in front of them.

"That's what I used to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts last year," he explained in a curt tone, the tinge of regret obvious to his own ears.

Blaise took in a breath quickly and looked up at it, contemplating the hideous contraption with a dark expression.

"Bloody hell, Draco," he commented in a low, serious voice for once, "I don't know how your witch forgave you for that one."

Draco grit his teeth a bit in anger, not at Blaise but at himself.

"Neither do I," he replied shortly.

It looked like Blaise was going to say more, but Draco hurriedly shushed him with an urgent wave of his hand when he heard a distant voice calling something from over the stacks of junk. His friend listened and heard it too and they nodded to each other.

"Over that way," he mouthed, and the two of them started to pick their way around the towers of things in the room, creeping towards the voices. He was of course hopeful that it would be Hermione, but he wasn't taking any chances. As he and Blaise made their way around a corner that was piled high with old couches, they saw three figures rummaging around looking for something. Draco felt his chest swell with delight when he noticed one of them had a familiar head of curly hair, and was pushing aside stacks of old books. She was alive and seemed unhurt, and he felt like the weight he had been carrying around the last few hours was lifted slightly. As he watched from a distance, he saw Potter release a sudden sound of triumph as he ripped away some rubbish to reveal a perch with a dull looking tiara on top of it. The metal was old and bent in a couple of places, and it needed a damn good polish, but looked like it might have been expensive at some point. Draco frowned in confusion. Just before Potter could step forward and claim his prize, he moved around the corner and towards them.

"Hold it, Potter," he spat in a low, sarcastic drawl, "Do you mean to tell me that your big secret mission all this time has just been to find some tacky jewellery?"

The golden trio spun around in shock as his voice interrupted their concentration. Potter looked at him with his brows raised high in vague bemusement. Weasley was fuming. Blaise had been right, it was fun to see his face turn such a deep shade of red that he looked like he was suffocating. Then he looked over at Hermione. Her face was flushed a pretty pink and her hair was becoming more and more untangled from the braid draped over one shoulder. Brown eyes widened to stare at him with delight and the most angelic smile spread across her lips, creasing her cheeks into dimples. He offered her a smirk in return.

"Draco!" she gasped his name in one deep breath, starting to race towards him. But Weasley was closer. And he got there first.

Draco hadn't been expecting it; otherwise he would have raised his wand or shielded his face with his arms. Weasley's fist met his nose with a sickening crunch and he stumbled back a couple of steps as the pain flashed through his head like a sudden migraine. He heard a couple of voices distantly yelling, and Hermione squeal in horror.

" _RON!_ "

Almost instantly he felt the warm sensation of blood dribbling down from his nostrils. His jaw was throbbing from the impact and had gone so numb that he almost didn't feel it when the blood trickled down to his chin. He dabbed softly at his face until it stopped. His nose was stinging and he felt his eyes water in response to the blow. It hurt like a bitch. When he was finally able to blink and look up at what was happening, he saw Hermione's face in front of him, her eyes wide with worry. When he managed a crooked smile to reassure her, she instantly spun away to look furiously at her redheaded friend.

"What is wrong with you?" she growled angrily. Draco followed her gaze and saw that Potter had stepped forward to hold his friend back, but the ginger menace was still struggling with a thunderous expression on his face. Blaise was also standing there ready to defend him if needed, which was probably a good thing, because Weasley looked ready to explode.

"He's a fucking Death Eater," Ron shouted his head swivelling to stare at each of them in turn, finally settling on Hermione. "How could you do this to me Mione? How could you do this to Harry?" he accused, his eyes almost popping out of his head in furious despair.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"For a smart girl, I didn't think you could be so bloody stupid! Malfoy is just pulling you along. Trying to seduce you so that you'll betray Harry."

There was a brief, silent pause that was only interrupted when Blaise snorted with laughter. Draco shot him a frown, knowing that Hermione wouldn't like him taking light of the situation.

"Are you serious, Ron?" she said with exasperation, "That's ridiculous. I've been living with him for three bloody months."

"So?"

"So I think I know his intentions a bit better than you do."

Ron huffed and tried once more to shrug Harry off, but the messy haired boy was holding on tight.

"This is the same ferret that used to call you a mudblood, or have you forgotten that?"

Hermione flushed a bit and clenched her fists at her sides.

"Of course I haven't. But we have _all_ grown up since then."

"Well, Weasley obviously hasn't." Draco added with a bit of an evil smile

The ginger spun on him, his face turning purple now.

"SHUT UP MALFOY!"

Hermione groaned and put her hands on her hips, looking like her old bossy self.

"Ron, he hasn't been like that towards me for years. He's apologised profusely and I've forgiven him."

"His family tortured you!"

"Yes, they did," she responded quite calmly, "And despite the hundreds of reasons not to, he rescued me from them."

"Mate…she's right you know," Harry piped up in a small voice, even while he was still holding onto his friend, "he saved her life, and he didn't actually kill Dumbledore when he should have. You know how much I hate the guy, he's an annoying wanker, but even I'm having doubts about his loyalty to their side."

"Thanks Potter," Draco said dryly, rolling his eyes at the boy's clumsy defence. Weasley stared at his best friend with wide, hurt eyes, like he had been slapped in the face.

"Have you both gone mad? Mione-" he switched his gaze to her, "What really happened? Did he imperius you? Because you can't seem to see that he's just trying to get into your pants!"

Draco smirked, unable to stop himself from making the Weasel squirm.

"Not just _trying,_ " he muttered. Hermione groaned softly and rolled her eyes, while Blaise let out a burst of laughter.

"You _FUCKING BASTARD-_ " Ron yelled, and he almost managed to get free of Potter but somehow scar-face managed to keep a hold of him, even as his face turned down in disgust a bit as well. He probably didn't want to hear that kind of stuff about his friend who he loved like a sister. Draco didn't really care; Hermione was _his_ now and her friends needed to start accepting that so they didn't ruin their friendships with her. It was clear, though, that Weasley was unable to cope with this kind of jealousy right now with everything else going on.

"Ron, calm down, for goodness sake!" Potter grunted, pulling back hard on his arms to move him a few steps away, "Now is really _not_ the time! We're in the middle of a bloody war here, so can you put your personal problems to the side?"

"But he-"

"NO! This is bigger than you and your hurt feelings."

Hermione tutted and stepped forward as well, maybe hoping that she and Potter could gang up on the ginger to knock some sense into him.

"Ron, when all this is over you can yell at me as much as you want, honestly. But tonight, right now, please just trust me enough to keep going and help us win this."

Ron looked back and forth between his best friend and the girl he was in love with, looking troubled. But finally his expression cooled a bit, and his body relaxed enough for Potter to feel okay about releasing him. Draco watched for Hermione's reaction and was pleased to see her calm down as well; he could tell her body had been tense and ready to jump in front of him to defend him if necessary. She was like a fierce lioness protecting what was hers.

The Weasel ground his teeth together and turned away sullenly, not meeting anyone's eye.

"Fine, but this isn't over. And I am _not_ helping the ferret worm his way out of anything. If he fucks up and dies, then so be it."

Hermione's brows creased together, but she eventually nodded in acceptance. It was probably the best she was going to get. Draco shared a glance with Blaise and was annoyed to see the shit eating grin spread wide on his friend's face. He was such an immature prat.

"Okay," Hermione snapped, bringing the conversation to an end, "Now let's just take the bloody diadem and get out of here."

"What is a diadem anyway?" Draco asked with a frown.

"Don't ask," Potter replied with a sheepish smile, before he reached over and tugged it off the statue where it was sitting. He seemed to shiver a bit as he touched it, but grit his teeth and shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie. Draco wondered again what this thing could be. It seemed strange that the three of them were hunting down some grotty old tiara; how was it related to Voldemort?

While he was watching Potter, he felt a gentle hand tug on his arm and he turned to see Hermione looking up at him with a smile.

"Thank you for helping," she murmured softly, "I'm glad you're here with me."

His returned her smile, reaching up to run his fingers over the plait hanging across one shoulder. He gave it a little tug and leaned in closer to her.

"Someone has to keep an eye on you lot," he said quietly.

It was when the five of them turned back towards the path that would lead them out of the room that they all froze in shock. Blaise was the first one to notice them, and his eyes went very wide before he swore quietly, alerting Draco to their presence as well. He shuffled sideways a little to stand in front of Hermione.

"Well what do we have here?"

Crabbe and Goyle had turned the corner to come face to face with them. They were both wearing their school robes, which were far too small for them on their hulking frames. Draco bit down on his tongue in irritation that the two morons had not left the castle when the other students were evacuated. They were only likely to cause trouble here.

Goyle was looking as befuddled as he always did. His expression was gaping and his hands swinging by his sides like an ape. He was barely pointing his wand upwards. Crabbe on the other hand was glaring at them with a cruel, triumphant glint in his eyes. He was taller than Draco remembered, he had grown a lot, but was still just as firm and stocky, and his chubby hand was pointing his wand with shaking fury at them.

"Crabbe, what an unpleasant surprise," Blaise commented with distaste, also getting his wand ready for a confrontation.

"This is a change," Crabbe sneered at the two Slytherins in front of him, the spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke with belligerent rage, "When did you two turn traitors?"

Draco shooks his head.

"That's none of your damn business, Crabbe. Now drop your wand before this gets ugly."

Crabbe fixed his gaze with fierce intensity on Draco. His former bodyguard and friend seemed drastically different, he could tell jut from looking into the large boy's eyes. He was more confident, but also more unhinged. Draco wondered what the stupid boy had gone through since he himself had left Hogwarts. Who knows what the school had become this year, or what these two boys had done now that they weren't under the control of other stronger, more intelligent people like him and Blaise.

"You think you're so fucking clever, Draco. But I always knew you were a gutless coward. Siding with mudbloods and muggle lovers."

"Crabbe, I'm warning you. There's five of us and two of you. You can't win this," he tried to reason, but the mad, frantic look in his old friend's eyes made him realise that he wouldn't listen to logic.

"You don't know that," the boy shouted, his wand jabbing into the air wildly in front of him, "I've been taught things you probably haven't even heard of."

Blaise rolled his eyes, groaning in irritation. He'd never had the patience to deal with Crabbe or Goyle.

"Come on, mate. Just hex him so we can get out of this bloody place."

But Draco was still hesitant to throw any spells at Crabbe. The boy looked like he could be seriously dangerous if he were attacked. His low intelligence coupled with his violent anger was a bad combination. Just to be sure, he inched another step further in front of Hermione so that she would be shielded from any wayward hexes.

"You always treated me like dirt on the bottom of your shoe, _Malfoy,_ " the boy growled, his eyes wild and his upper lip sweating as he shouted, "Well now I'm the one with the power. And you're nothing but a mudblood loving son of a bitch."

"Just shut up and drop your wand," Draco snapped suddenly, angered by Crabbe's taunts. He heard rather than saw a shuffling to his right, and he knew that Potter had moved forward to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, both their wands outstretched. Crabbe just laughed.

"Is that why your mummy killed herself? Too ashamed of her traitor son?"

"SHUTUP UP!" Draco repeated a lot louder this time, and his voice echoed around the high domed ceiling of the cathedral-like room.

He felt Hermione behind him reach out and place her hand gently on the small of his back to sooth him, and it helped to calm him down a bit. That was until Crabbe turned to Potter and his smirk turned truly evil.

"You and Potter must be great friends now that you both share that in common. Both of you had mothers who were too weak. Too stupid and snivelling to stand up to the might of the Dark Lord."

Draco wasn't sure which one of them hexed first. All he knew was that he and Potter fired spells simultaneously towards Crabbe, both of them literally shaking with anger and ready to kill or injure the larger boy. The red and orange lights burst forwards but recoiled and rebounded away when Crabbe slashed his arm downwards in an arc of blue light.

"Oh? Are we playing that game now? Okay – _descendo!_ "

Crabbe drew his wand down like a whip and, after an alarming creaking sound, one of the towers of junk next to them started to fall sideways. All five of them shouted in exclamation as the top layers of books began to cascade down on them. Hermione was, not surprisingly, the first to act. She swung her wand up and silently charmed the pile to freeze centimetres above their heads, just in time. The items quickly rose up again and rearranged themselves messily.

"Stay out of this, Mudblood," Crabbe sneered, and Draco was only just in time to block a nasty hex that was intended for her. He growled and threw one back of his own, which Crabbe slashed away again. His magic wasn't more refined – he still clearly had half a brain, as his spells weren't quite what they should be – but he was wild, violent and ham-fisted. A dangerous combination. He was also quite unpredictable, as the next second he was yelling " _Crucio_ " and casting the unforgivable towards Potter. It was fortunately blocked, though the severity of the curse made the mood in the room turn deadly serious, even Blaise, as they realised what evil the other boy was capable of.

"Uh…Vince…" Goyle stammered next to him, cringing back a bit from his friend's wrath, "We're not supposed to kill Potter, remember?"

Crabbe growled and spat on the ground next to him.

"I don't give a shit. No one tells me what to do anymore."

Draco knew that this was going to go badly. He exchanged a significant look with Blaise and the two of the stepped to opposite sides. They were trying to encircle him, outsmart him since he was unlikely to see a sly attack coming. Draco was very conscious of all the wooden furniture, books and scrap towering on either side of them. It was a precarious position to be in while fighting. He was pleased to see Potter and Hermione take their lead and get themselves into position so that they were harder to attack with the distance between them, but also in place to get at him from different angles.

It was a shock to Draco then when Crabbe's eyes widened and his nostrils flared in a rage as he looked across the group.

"Oh you think you're so fucking clever, Malfoy," he sneered, "But you can't act like you're better than me anymore. I'm more powerful than you now. I've been taught dark spells you can't even imagine."

That was the moment when Crabbe's face went black with vile intent. His left eye was twitching and his face was covered in sweat and sickly looking. Draco watched in apprehension as the tip of his wand sparked and a flare of fire spluttered clumsily to life. Once it took form out of his wand, he saw that the fire looked unnatural. It was too bright, the edges violent and moving in erratic patterns like snakes. It didn't behave like a normal fire. It started to grow unevenly, and as it stretched its tips out, Draco became aware of the heat. Even standing three metres or more away from the flames, he felt scorched by it, and his skin tingled uncomfortably. Crabbe was also now dripping with sweat and his pudgy face was flushed a shiny red colour.

Hermione's voice rang out in a shriek, sounding like a tinkling wind charm against the hollow vibrating backdrop of the fire.

"You idiot!" she screamed, "What have you done?"

"What is it?" Potter yelled towards her.

"It's fiendfyre! He can't control it. He's going to kill us all."

Crabbe laughed, his face screwed up in an ugly smile of triumph.

"Like it hot, scum?" he shouted hoarsely over the roar of the flames as they kept spreading, forcing everyone to take a few steps backwards. The curly haired witch groaned fearfully and turned towards Draco.

"He's not strong enough to hold it. We have to get out of here _now._ "

Draco was staring at his old friend, dumbfounded for a few seconds longer as he tried to reconcile this sadistic madman with the quiet, shy boy he had known as a child. The fire kept growing larger and more menacing.

" _DRACO!_ " she shrieked again, and he snapped out of it in an instant.

Blaise was already shoving Potter and Weasley away, and he and Hermione followed at a run. Before they could get very far, there was a deafening blast behind them as the fire took over. Crabbe and Goyle were thrown to the ground as the fire attacked the towers of junk ravenously. It wasn't very long before the blaze had swept across the corridor of old belongings. A pile of wooden classroom chairs crashed to the floor, sending the flames right across their path. Draco felt his heart throbbing and he was dripping so much with sweat that he had difficulty keeping his grip on his wand.

"What do we do?" Hermione shouted over the loud roaring of the fire. Far behind them now, they could see Crabbe and Goyle trying desperately to grapple with the furniture around them, climbing above the aggressive force.

" _Aguamenti!_ " Potter cast at the flames again and again, but it made absolutely no difference.

"That won't work!" the witch groaned, her hands shaking in terror. Blaise suddenly darted into a side alcove of rubbish and began tugging things away from the heap. Each item went clattering to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Draco yelled, but Blaise ignored him. As the golden trio kept trying to cast spell after spell on the fire, his friend continued to rummage for something.

Finally he shouted in triumph.

"HERE!" he called out to the others, and started tossing old mangy broomsticks at them. There were three in total, "Get to the door!"

Potter grinned in relief.

"Brilliant! Let's go!"

The two Gryffindor boys managed to squeeze onto one of the larger brooms, while Hermione jumped on behind Draco. Blaise kicked off on his own broom, leading the way over the towering city of things towards the doorway. As soon as Draco kicked off, he felt the witch behind him grab on as hard as she could. He wasn't sure what was more painful; the heat from the fire or the sting of her fingernails digging into him. He knew she was scared of flying, and this was hardly an ideal setting either, but she did manage to cling on securely once they were in the air.

"Hold on," he called, twisting the handle to the side to swivel the broom backwards away from where the other boys were heading.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked into his ear, her voice shaking.

"I have to see if Goyle's ok!"

He felt her squeal a bit into his back as he raced around the area where the fire had started. The debris of the room was completely consumed by the fire, everything charred to blackness by the violent blaze. Draco shuddered as he glimpsed the body of Crabbe still on the ground nearby. He had stopped writhing, having been taken quickly in the flames. Draco clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away so as not to see the mangled, slowly deforming figure. When he opened his eyes again he spotted a large figure clinging desperately to a stack of old student desks a little further away.

"BLAISE!" he yelled, but when he turned his head he saw that his friend was zooming towards him; he had returned on his broom out of worry for them.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Draco?" Blaise shouted, his face a picture of outrage.

"Please, Blaise, Greg doesn't deserve this!" he asked over the roar below, almost choking on smoke as he did. Blaise grimaced and let out a heavy panting breath.

"Fine! But if I die saving him I'm going to kill you, Draco!"

Draco nodded and watched Blaise sweep the hulking figure of Goyle up onto the back of his broom. The wood buckled beneath their combined weight, but managed to steady out and chug its way towards the door.

"Alright," Draco said through his teeth, clenching his jaw as he spoke to avoid inhaling more smoke, "Let's get out of here."

He and Hermione followed behind them. The fire was quickly approaching the door, and it was an incredibly close call. The searing flames licked at their skin as they tumbled through the doorway, panting and coughing from the smoke. The four of them collapsed on the ground as Potter kicked the door closed, throwing the diadem inside as he did. A loud groaning, almost horrific screaming sound echoed out from inside and the walls around them shook violently. It felt like an explosion had gone off inside, and Draco guessed that the wailing sound must have come out of the crown-like thing that Potter tossed in there. As the noise reverberated around the shuddering walls, Potter clutched at his head and fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Hermione instantly crawled to his side and took hold of his hand, murmuring something to him that he couldn't hear. The boy rocked back and forth a few times, his hand pressed to the lightening bolt scar as if it were splitting him in two. Draco just stared at the scene with shock.

The room of hidden things was destroyed, and the tiara with it. Potter eventually blinked and looked up, staring around at their small, bizarre group.

"Now it's just the snake…"

….

 **Thanks for reading once again. It's getting pretty intense now. And thank you for your very encouraging reviews – I also kinda love Blaise. Please leave a comment.**


	29. Battled

**Author's Note: Thanks for your patience waiting for updates and for continuing to read. This one is a bit shorter, but I've got a holiday from work coming up soon, so the writing will come back in full swing then! As always, JKR is like a vial of Felix Felicis.**

 **….**

Their odd group of three Gryffindors and three Slytherins were struggling to catch their breath on the rumbling stone of the Seventh Floor corridor. The smells of battle invaded their little hideaway, and it was some kind of miracle that the fighting had not yet encroached on the small space. Draco's eyes flicked over to Blaise in particular, who was curled over near them, retching from inhaling too much smoke, since he had doubled back for Goyle and had been yelling, inhaling a lot of smoke. But for the most part the rest of them seemed to be unscathed, if a little shaken. Goyle of course seemed completely stunned. He was staring dumbly around at the group, his mouth gaping open like a fish.

"Cr…Crabbe…" he stammered fearfully.

"He's dead," Ron said harshly. Draco glared at him warningly.

"What?" the ginger snapped belligerently, "He tried to kill us. So excuse me if I'm not going to mourn the loss."

Draco just grit his teeth and turned away, knowing it would upset Hermione if he started up another fight with the ginger. Instead he turned to his old friend and crouched next to him. Even though the larger boy had made some mistakes lately, he was actually pretty harmless. Whereas Crabbe had always had a bit of a sadistic streak, Goyle was just inherently stupid. He really only followed people who were stronger than him, regardless of where they took him or what they told him to do. Draco felt mostly pity for the big guy. He waited until Goyle met his eye, and then he looked at him with conviction.

"Greg – you need to do something for me…" he waited for Goyle to nod in response before he continued, "Go down to the dungeons and hide, alright? You shouldn't be out here while all this is going on."

His voice was probably kinder than he had ever spoken to Goyle in their lives. Now that Crabbe wasn't here, it was second nature for the big Slytherin to just obey anything that Draco said, and he reverted to that behaviour now.

"Right…Right. Yes. Okay, that's a good idea."

"Yes it is," he encouraged, "Go on. Just stay there and look out for any younger Slytherins who didn't get out. Try to protect them. Can you do that?"

Goyle nodded quickly and clambered to his feet.

"We're not seriously just going to let him go, are we?" Weasley stammered angrily, "He tried to kill us!"

"No he didn't," Draco snapped, spinning to face the red head, "Crabbe did. He's not even involved in any of this."

"His dad is a Death Eater," Potter pointed out softly, though his voice wasn't harsh or accusatory like his friend's.

"Yeh, well so is mine," Draco retorted, "That doesn't define us."

There was a soft weight on his arm, and he felt Hermione wrap her fingers around him. She gave a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

"Just leave it," she said to the two boys in front of her, and while Ron scowled darkly, Potter nodded.

"Alright."

Draco gave a gentle push to Goyle and the other boy began to lumber down the corridor towards the staircase that would lead him to the dungeons. He watched him go worriedly, knowing that if anything bad came upon him, he probably wasn't capable of dealing with it. But at least this way he might sneak by unnoticed instead of hanging around with Potter the danger magnet. He felt Hermione slip her hand down to link her fingers through his. He stroked his thumb over her hand in response, feeling soothed by her gesture.

"We need to find You-Know-Who…" Hermione began, looking with wide, scared eyes around at the group. Potter nodded and stepped forward, automatically taking charge. Draco definitely noticed the way that the other two Gryffindors immediately turned to him for instruction.

"I'll try to see where he is…" he said nervously, but he seemed pretty shaken still. He closed his eyes and just stood there for a short while, trembling and clenching his fists. Hermione and Weasley were watching him with bated breath. Draco glanced sideways at his friend and they shared a questioning look of confusion. He didn't know why Potter would mysteriously be able to pinpoint Voldemort's location through some kind of bizarre trance, but he knew better than to start asking questions. He knew that if they survived this, he would get all his answers after.

The four of them waited in silence while Potter stood frozen, eyes roving under his lids, until finally he snapped them open and stared around at the group.

"He's in the shrieking shack," he murmured, wiping the sweat from his forehead, before turning to look at Draco, "Your father was there too."

Draco swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and felt the anger bristle up his spine as Potter rubbed his hand over his face anxiously.

"He was asking for Snape. But Lucius was reluctant to fetch him. He just wanted to go out there and fight, to kill as many muggleborns as he could… um…er…sorry-" Potter looked over at him with a worried frown, and he could feel Hermione squeezing his hand a bit tighter as well.

"Fucking bastard," Draco growled quietly, making Blaise snort in agreement and the two Gryffindor boys stare at him with shock.

"Alright," Potter stammered, turning his attention back to his friends, still looking pretty tremulous on his feet, "well let's get going. Ron and Hermione, you're coming with me?"

"Yes," they echoed each other at once. Draco felt a plummeting sensation in his gut, knowing that this brief time with her was coming to an end. He turned to Hermione and clenched her hands in both of his, looking at her intently.

"Be careful. I'll let you know if there's any news from the battlefront, from the other death eaters."

"You be careful too. Be a Slytherin," she murmured in response, "Protect yourself."

Potter had to practically drag her away, but eventually he managed to coax her to leave. Draco watched her go with a sinking feeling, which only increased every time she looked back at him yearningly. By the time they reached the end of the corridor, Potter had retrieved a long flowing piece of material from Hermione's bag. He threw it over the three of them and they vanished completely.

"Woah, what the bloody hell was that?" Blaise asked.

Draco was also blinking in surprise at their sudden disappearance. He had heard of invisibility cloaks before of course, but this one seemed completely undetectable.

"It's better not to wonder," he said dryly, "Just go alone with it for now."

Blaise shook his head whimsically and the two of them turned away from where the Golden Trio had disappeared.

"What's the plan then?"

Draco took a deep breath and pointed down a different passage that headed in the direction of the astronomy tower.

"Let's go back to the fight. See if we can get a better idea of what's happening to tell the others.

"Right," Blaise agreed with a sharp nod. The atmosphere between them had turned serious; they were no longer interested at all in joking around or making light of things. Draco was too focused on the dark thoughts that kept swirling through his mind when he considered what might happen to Hermione if Voldemort caught them. And even fun-loving Blaise felt the impact of the surrounding battle. The smell of death and decay everywhere was sure to dampen anyone's spirits.

The two of them ran down a few different passageways, keeping to the edges and the shadows. Once or twice they had the opportunity to fire spells from a distance as skirmishes appeared nearby. Draco managed to throw an angry hex at an enormous figure in dark robes who was attacking a group of students being led by Professor Flitwick. He was worried for a moment when the tiny Charms teacher spun around, seeing the advanced spell work coming from somewhere behind them, and Draco could swear he saw him widen his eyes in realisation. He wouldn't be surprised if the powerful little wizard could spot them through their concealment charms. He was sure that Flitwick sent a wink his way before he turned back to direct his students down another staircase.

Blaise managed to also play the hero for a little while, just as he'd wanted. He noticed some younger boys from Gryffindor, maybe second or third year, who had obviously thought the battle would be a cool thing to hang around for, and who had been gravely mistaken. He saw them wander in front of a couple of overly zealous death eaters just in time to throw up a shield charm around them. The dark curses rebounded off it, giving them time to realise their predicament and run away, yelling at each other at the tops of their voices and assigning blame for the idea.

It wasn't until they actually neared the north side of the Great Hall, having circled down to the ground floor that they stumbled across the more intense fighting. The people down here were casting to kill on both sides. There were ferocious Death Eaters, many of whom had abandoned their anonymity by removing their masks and taking the hall by storm, no longer caring if they were recognised. Against them were a few hardened aurors as well. The air was hot and sticky with magic, and Blaise and Draco crept to one side, crouching behind some rubble to get their bearings as they watched the frenzy before them.

His eyes were drawn to a figure fighting close to them. She was an auror with a shocking head of magenta hair. Although she seemed a bit ungainly on her feet, she was a tough warrior, taking on five Death Eaters at once. Her reflexes were unmatched, and she soon had the herd around her thinned to just two. Draco recognised one of the men she was fighting as Pius Thickness. While he was a brute politician at heart, there was no denying that he was good with dismembering spells. He could sever a limb from a hundred meters away with just a flick of his wand. The other Death Eater Draco didn't actually know by name, but he recognised the face from a few of his father's more disreputable gatherings. The purple haired auror was holding her own well, but Draco could tell she was beginning to tire. Her motions were getting sluggish as she kept having to spin between the two experienced dark wizards. And Draco could distinguish in the distance the wild hair of his aunt Bellatrix, eyeing this powerful witch with something that looked like rage in her mad eyes. He wondered if there was any personal grudge there, because she seemed more insane than usual. The sudden rumbling of the castle around them threw everyone off their feet, creating a pause in the various battles as dust rained down on top of them. When Thickness raised his wand as the auror's shields went down, distracted by the castle's movement, Draco knew that he had to act quickly or this could end badly, fatally. Raising his wand over the rubble that was sheltering him, he quickly cursed Pius right off his feet, watching with grim satisfaction when the Death Eater went crashing into the wall with a sickening crack as his skull hit the stone. The purple haired woman was momentarily distracted, but managed to gather her wits quick enough to take on the other dark wizard. After a minute or so she knocked him out cold, but not before suffering a blow to her chest that sliced across her skin, a small spray of blood erupting from the wound, making her gasp. She stumbled a bit, and Draco ducked out from behind the rubble to grab hold of her and pull her back into their hiding spot.

"Here you go," he muttered as he gently lowered her to the ground out of sight. Blaise knelt down too, and they looked over her shaking body as she panted for breath.

"We need to heal that," Blaise said with a frown, pointing at the fresh wound that ran up her chest near her collarbone. Draco nodded, directing his wand at her and muttering a healing charm that would help knit the skin back together to prevent worse damage or bleeding. The auror blinked in surprise as he was working, looking at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Blimey…you're Draco Malfoy," she murmured in disbelief, "I'd recognise that hair, those facial features anywhere."

Draco finished the charm and leaned back on his haunches, studying the strange looking woman.

"Yes. I am. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeh, I'm alright. A bit sore, but there's too much adrenalin to worry about that. Wait… you really are Draco Malfoy? As in Lucius Malfoy's son?"

Draco scowled and sighed, flinching when some of the rubble cracked off and showered down on them.

"Yes, really."

The woman stared at him.

"But…you just saved my life!"

Draco blinked at her a few times, before cursing himself loudly. Blaise groaned at the same time as he closed his eyes for a brief moment in regret.

"I wasn't…It was an accident…I didn't know…" he tried to cover, hoping that the woman wouldn't make a big deal of it, wondering how long it would take her to realise what he had in mind before he could fire off an obliviate.

"It's alright," she said quickly, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace, "I'm just surprised that's all. My mother always told me you were just like your father. I'm pleased to see her proven wrong."

"Do I know you?" he asked, confused, trying to ignore the screams and curses of people on the other side of the barrier protecting them.

"Um…well…the thing is yer know, we're actually…cousins," she said with a bit of a sheepish smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaise smirk with amusement, while he frowned down at the young woman whose hair had now turned a deep shade of blue.

"What?"

"I'm Andromeda's daughter. Nymphadora Tonks at your service."

The blue haired auror stuck out her hand and, a bit dazed, Draco took it and shook.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Yes, we already established that. You can call me Tonks. I owe you one big time, cousin. I'd be dead if it weren't for you."

"Wait a minute," he said, furrowing his brow, "You're the one that my aunt keeps going on about. You married the werewolf."

"Remus Lupin, yes!" she said with a bright smile, as if she were literally glowing with pride about it, "Is your mum here? _My_ mum will be anxious to hear about her. Her favourite sister and all, despite everything that went down."

Draco swallowed, licking his lips as his heart thudded painfully at the reminder.

"Actually, she's dead. She died weeks ago. Killed herself," he said a bit curtly, not really wanting to have a family reunion in the middle of a warzone.

"Oh no!" Tonks exclaimed with anguish, "That's awful. I'm sorry, Draco. Is that why you're not fighting for them?"

"One of the many reasons."

There was another big crash near them, and the three of them cowered as pebbles and glass scattered all over them.

"Look, sorry to interrupt this touching moment for you two, but is this really the time or place?" Blaise said wryly, and Tonks immediately sobered.

"Gotcha. Save it for later. I'd better get back out there, find Remus and see how he's doing."

Draco grasped onto her forearm before she could slide out from their hiding place.

"Um…Tonks…" it felt a bit awkward saying the strange muggle name when he'd only just met her, "Don't tell anyone. Not a soul. I'm still technically a Death Eater here. And I want to keep helping."

Tonks nodded, giving him a big goofy grin and drawing him in for a bear hug, Draco stumbled a bit into the embrace, feeling the wind choked out of him. When the now blue haired woman leant back she looked ecstatic.

"I am the very picture of silence!" she announced, "I'm just so happy to finally meet you. Stay safe! And thank you again."

"Yeh, you too. Be careful out there. Bellatrix has it in for you."

Tonks nodded in acknowledgement. She took a deep breath to steel herself before tightening her grip on her wand.

However, before she could launch out ready to attack, there was an ear splitting noise that made them all gasp and hunch over before a voice spoke loudly through the Great Hall. The sound echoed around the vaulted ceilings, ringing out like a siren of terror.

" _You have fought valiantly. And Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately,_ " Draco looked over at Blaise with worry clear in his expression. He didn't like the sound of this, " _You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you-_ "

Draco tuned the voice out a bit as he turned to Blaise.

"I guess I'd better go. I wouldn't want anyone to get suspicious."

"Keep in touch," Blaise reminded him and he nodded. Then they both cursed simultaneously as they heard the last part of Voldemort's message.

"He's just trying to goad Potter and his whole saviour guilt complex."

"And Potter's stupid enough to fall for it," Blaise responded with a nod, as the Dark Lord repeated his threat to the Chosen One and gave him the ultimatum.

"Listen, Blaise," he said frantically, ignoring Tonks who was staring between them with interest apparent on her face, "Whatever happens, do _not_ under any circumstances let Hermione go with him on some suicide mission into the forest. If he chooses to do something stupid, restrain her if you have to. Just keep her here."

"Hermione? As in…Hermione Granger?" Tonks asked curiously, but Draco just ignored her.

"Can you do that for me, Blaise?"

His friend nodded, giving him a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder. Draco heard the whooshing sounds of apparition all around them that signalled the departure of the Death Eaters. He quickly tightened his grip on his wand and, with one last nod to his cousin and his friend, he vanished, appearing seconds later in the heart of the forbidden forest.

The darkness of the forest dazed him for a moment. The castle had been lit up in its own special, magical way, and the flashes of spells and shields had lit up the sky like a festival. But here it was cold, and painfully quiet. He saw some other shadowy figures skulking through the trees nearby, so he quickly straightened, squaring his shoulders and drawing on his mental walls. He began following their lead towards a clearing up ahead where the Death Eaters had gathered around Voldemort. The Dark lord was pacing back and forth in agitation, but for some reason Draco was certain that he wasn't worried about just Harry Potter. He was merely one pesky kid after all. There was something else bothering him. He kept staring down at his wand, a look of impotent rage in his red eyes. Draco shuddered, taking his place in the group, standing to one side as far away from Voldemort as he could without seeming suspicious.

His eyes scanned the group quickly. None of the wizards or witches present were wearing masks any more; it had gone beyond that. He was searching desperately for Severus, hoping for a look of comfort or reassurance that things were progressing as the mad old Headmaster had planned. But to Draco's dismay, there was no sign of his godfather anywhere. He shuffled over to one of the men he recognised as a friend of his father's who had always been fond of him.

"Have you seen Severus?" he muttered to the many, trying to sound nonchalant, leaning casually against a tree trunk as he did. The man – Hopkin was his name – shook his head.

"Nope. I don't think he's even been near the battle. Bloody coward."

Draco felt his skin crawl with worry. It bothered him that the potions master was missing. It wasn't like him to lose track of time, and he doubted the man had blown his cover and was with the Order. He just closed his eyes briefly and hoped that he'd turn up soon.

He half expected Voldemort to start offering them words of wisdom, congratulations or encouragement, or even punishment. But the Dark Lord didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge anyone or speak at all. His lack of direction worried the group, which was now significantly smaller than it had been earlier in the evening. They were all waiting for something to happen, but didn't want to raise their voices to high to disturb the nightmarish silence that had descended on the forest. It was just a waiting game now.

….

It felt like much more than just an hour later that the cracking of twigs and rustle of leaves alerted them to a presence entering the clearing. Draco held his breath as he watched Voldemort spin to face the sound, contempt and triumph fighting to take reign on his face.

And sure enough, as the Dark Lord had predicted, a scruffy haired boy walked out into the open space, his skin pale and smeared with dirt. But his eyes were confident, challenging even as he faced death, ready and welcoming.

Harry Potter had given himself up.

….

 **It's all going down now! We're up to the big "hold your breath" scenes. Please review and help me to figure out how to relieve all this tension! I'm pretty set on how I want my ending to go, but there are so many details that are unclear in my mind. Thank you for your reviews.**


	30. Survived

**Author's Note: I'm pleased you've enjoyed the epic Battle of Hogwarts so far; it's really quite a vague part of the books with a lot of room for interpretation if you feel like mixing it up! I won't keep you waiting this time. As always, JKR wants us to follow the spiders.**

 **...**

Draco stared in horror as Potter – _stupid, self-sacrificing bastard_ – strolled into that damn clearing waiting to be slaughtered like a lamb. He had to try very hard not to flinch, but to actually smile victoriously like the rest of the remaining Death Eaters. Glancing at his father, he saw Lucius laugh with almost perverted delight. This was not good. This was a disaster. For years he had fantasized enthusiastically about Potter being disfigured in some hideous and embarrassing way; that's the kind of thing you thought about with childhood rivalries. But now everything was different. He didn't think they could ever possibly be _friends,_ the very word made him feel sick. But Hermione loved this boy. She thought of him as a brother; they had looked out for each other since first year, and she would be absolutely devastated if something happened to him. Which now seemed inevitable.

 _What the fuck does he think he's doing?_ Draco thought with barely repressed rage and desperation. The last thing in the world that he wanted right now was to see Hermione's sweet, innocent face broken by grief for the loss of her dearest friend. And it _would_ break her. Her whole life these past few years had been about helping and protecting Potter. She would be completely shattered by this. And there was nothing Draco could do. To get involved and try to help the idiot now would just be a death sentence for the both of them. And Hermione would need him after this.

Draco watched with wide, haunted eyes as the stupid wanker entered the clearing, stepping calmly over roots and rocks to stand directly before Lord Voldemort. The two dichotomous wizards faced each other, one with a feverish glee on his snake-like features, and the other expressionless.

"Harry Potter," the Dark Lord whispered, and as quiet as his voice was, it seemed to echo around the clearing. He looked the boy up and down, his face a myriad of emotions, the strongest of which was absolute searing hatred. "The boy who lived," he added almost whimsically, as if pondering the name and what it meant here and now. There was a pause, painfully long, in which nothing happened. Then he lifted his wand in bony, white fingers.

Draco took in a deep gasping breath of air as the curse from Voldemort's wand burst forwards in a beam of violent static light, illuminating the entire clearing. Potter just stood there uselessly, not even raising his own wand to defend himself.

 _Why doesn't the bloody idiot defend himself?_

When the spell hit him, the onlookers shouted out in shock as the light crackled as if with a mind of its own. Draco had never seen an Avada appear this way. Potter dropped instantly to the ground in a boneless heap, his head thunking against the forest floor. But the light seemed to refract and jet backwards a bit as it lingered on the tip of Voldemort's wand. The Dark Lord's red eyes widened in momentary surprise before he, too, seemed to fold in on himself and crumple to the floor. A number of Death Eaters leapt forwards in concern. Bellatrix, who was of course closest to him, reached out, make her hand met the obviously painful sting of a barrier of some kind as the spell continued to swirl a bit around him like an electric charge.

After that everyone seemed to back off a bit and just watch uneasily as his form convulsed in an agitation of muscles and limbs, while Potter stayed dead-still on the ground before him. It seemed like minutes before the spell finally dissipated and with a great whooshing sound, the light disappeared. The clearing was once again hurtled into darkness.

Draco was staring straight at Potter's prone body. He had inched forwards to get a better look while everyone was shuffling around trying to help the Dark Lord, and he now stood quite close to the Chosen One. He could discern no movement from the messy haired boy. He was completely still. Well, of course he was, Draco thought with a dark grimace of regret; just because he survived the killing curse once as a baby did not mean he could defeat the impossible again. The little flutter of hope he felt when Voldemort's spell seemed to distort was slowly fading as the boy remained motionless.

Finally, after what seemed like a few long minutes, the Dark Lord stumbled to his feet. It was odd to see the normally controlled and, for lack of a better word, graceful man look so haggard, but he did. He was gaunt, and stood on unsteady legs. Many of the surrounding Death Eaters were shocked at this appearance, preferring to see him as some kind of impervious deity that they could worship. It shook them to the core to watch him feel things that were so human, so weak. Many took a few steps backwards away from him. How could killing one pesky little teenager have caused such a reaction, they probably thought. They were scared.

The bolder ones, the ones who would be quite happy to lick the ground he walked on, shuffled closer. Bellatrix and his father were among them. They appeared worried, reaching out to help him stand and get his bearings. This turned out to be a mistake for them, as Voldemort snarled, the noise sounding a bit like the hissing of a snake, and sent a pulse of magic out that stung them. The small number of them who had dared move closer cried out, nursing their sore hands and staggering away.

"Is he dead? He must be dead now, this time surely…" the Dark Lord was rambling, murmuring a bit incoherently, but his thoughts were clear. He had been thwarted by Harry Potter too many times; it had made him obsessed, crazed at the idea of the boy's death.

Draco was closest.

He cautiously stepped towards the body of Potter still lying on the forest floor, limbs slightly cocked to one side and glasses askew. He glanced at Voldemort, checking that he wasn't about to be cursed, and gave a sigh of relief when the Dark Lord nodded enthusiastically, almost pressing him to deliver the joyful news of the boy's death. Draco knees were shaking and there was an unpleasant sensation in his mouth that tasted suspiciously like bile. But he had to know. He had to know if Hermione had lost her best friend. It felt like he actually walked a mile, his body was so exhausted, but he managed to make it across the leafy ground to Potter. He leaned down over him, peering around at his face, which was turned away from the group. He looked completely lifeless.

But…

Wait…

Draco could have sworn he saw his lips move just slightly, as if drawing in a tiny breath of air. Maybe he was imagining things. He reached out with a shaking hand and placed two fingers against Potter's neck where his pulse would be found. And when he pressed his fingers down he felt the steady pumping of blood in an even rhythm that signalled life, joy, hope.

Potter was alive. He'd done it again.

Draco wanted to reel backwards, since he felt like his body would convulse just from the shock. How could this have happened? No one was meant to survive the killing curse, let alone twice. But Potter's body didn't lie; there were signs of life in him if you watched closely enough and knew what to look for. He swallowed and leaned closer, hoping that the boy was cognisant of his surroundings and not still trapped in some coma. The slight roving of his eyeballs under their lids encouraged him.

"Bloody hell, Potter," he whispered as quietly as he could, so that none of the other Death Eaters would hear him, and if they did would hopefully think that he was whispering some parting words of hate to his school nemesis, "If you don't end it with this snake-faced bastard soon, I'll kill you myself!"

He saw Potter's lip quirk up into a half-smile and saw the boy nod his head very gently. Then Draco rose to his feet, his heart pounding. He drew all his concentration into a single focus point – making sure that his occlumency walls held tight, and conveyed the blankness of honesty. It wasn't often that one lied to the Dark Lord and got away with it. He was counting on his own skill with resisting legilimency, as well as his hope that Voldemort was still a bit shaken from what just happened to see him through this.

When he turned around to face the group of Death Eaters and Voldemort, he let his lips stretch into a wide, victorious grin. He didn't have to fake the emotion.

"He's dead," he announced loudly. His voice was filled with delight, malice and anticipation. He was very convincing.

Almost at once a cheering rumbled through the group and burst out, with Death Eaters calling out insults to the 'dead' body before them, and Voldemort himself managed to crack his thin, ashen lips into the barest hint of a smile too. The cacophony of noise lasted for ages, and Draco joined in, not moving away from Potter's body. If things went badly he might still need to act to get him out, so standing guard wasn't a bad idea. Finally the Dark Lord held up his hand for silence, before pointing one bony finger over at a large figure that was tethered somewhere towards the back of the group. A couple of the stronger Death Eaters kicked the man forwards, and as he entered the light of the clearing, Draco saw that it was the half-giant Hagrid.

" _You,_ " Voldemort spat at the large man who was openly weeping and moaning through his gag, "Pick up his body. We will return to the castle as victors. It is time to finish this."

Although his words were quietly spoken, it rallied the spirits of the Death Eaters enormously, who cheered and shouted with excitement. Draco stepped to one side as the shaking figure of Hagrid leaned down to scoop up the boy. Even though the giant glared at him with nothing but fury, Draco felt relief. He had been worried that they would choose to drag him back or toss him around, which would probably not end well. He was thankful for the way Hagrid cradled Potter so gently instead. He supposed it was the Dark Lord's way of being perverse, to make one of the boy's friends nurse his dead body and reveal him to the Order.

As a group they made their way quickly and efficiently back through the forest towards the school. They were met by no resistance from the creatures of the forest. At one point Hagrid managed to rip off his gag and yell something at a group of centaurs who watched them pass. His voice was filled with anguish as he screamed at the impassive horse men. Their group just kept walking, a few of the men around them laughing cruelly at the giant.

It didn't seem to take very long at all before they reached the castle. Draco saw the large glittering structure loom up out of the trees, and soon they were emerging from the dark forest and onto the front lawns, filtering out onto the stretching open grounds just outside the main doors. The castle looked like it had seen better days. There was smoke rising from its walls, and the stonework seemed singed and crumbled. It was actually a depressing sight. He was very fond of Hogwarts and seeing it in ruins only served to increase his disgust of the Death Eaters and Voldemort; they were the ones who had brought about this destruction. As weird as it sounded, Hogwarts didn't deserve this. As their group approached the castle up the front lawns, the light from the front entrance grew brighter, and the people inside spilled out in small dribs and drabs. Many were nursing injuries, or supporting each other. They all looked weary, ready for this to be over. He was surprised by how young some of the students were who stayed. Why had nobody made sure they were evacuated?

Towards the front of their group was the surprising figure of Neville Longbottom, limping heavily on one side but with a look of grim determination on his face. Draco froze a bit in shock, stumbling a little before he found his footing again, though he continued to stare at his old school bullying victim. He had never seen this side of Longbottom. The Gryffindor had clearly gone through a lot this last year. Draco had of course heard from friends that he had been the leader of the student rebellion at Hogwarts, but he had never quite believed it. But now, looking at the battle-worn, hard face of the man before him, no longer the scared boy from their youth, he certainly accepted that Longbottom was a force to be reckoned with. Draco smiled crookedly, strangely pleased that the young man had finally found some guts; he was also proud of Hermione for always believing in him. She had obviously seen something in Neville that others hadn't, and Draco himself was quite happy to have that perception altered.

He peered around the people at the front, trying to catch a glimpse of his curly-haired witch. He finally saw her emerge from the castle, and couldn't help the smile that teased at his lips at the sight of her alive and looking relatively unharmed. He saw Blaise follow close behind her as she pushed her way towards the front of the group. He was keeping a close guard on her by the looks of it, just as he had promised. And Draco knew from first hand experience in his sixth year that it could be very hard to avoid Blaise if he was committed to following you. He was like a dog with a bone.

Draco watched as she scanned the crowd desperately, her eyes wide and her plait now almost completely dishevelled. She was standing on the balls of her feet, wringing her hands as she watched the Death Eaters arrive. Finally she spotted him, and only because he pushed his own way right to the front of the group so that he could watch her more closely.

Their eyes met, and without being able to say anything, they managed to convey a weight of emotion to each other; relief, regret, sorrow, joy, fear. He felt a stinging sensation in chest, and recognised it as a fierce need to protect her, to do whatever he could to make sure they both saw it through this confrontation and out the other side. There was something amazing here – he had known it for years, even if she was just warming to the idea – and he would be damned if either of them were to die before they could explore the potential future between them. There were several shouts of dismay erupting across the opposite side, as more and more people became aware of the limp figure carried in Hagrid's arms. Several of them cried out, yelling accusations, or just declaring their disbelief, their anguish. Hermione's head turned around in surprise at the noise, and fell on the face of the youngest Weasley girl who was staring at the half-giant in horror, her face a picture of absolute despair. Confused, Hermione spun back around to look at the same spot, and Draco watched miserably as she saw the body of her closest friend, and heard the mocking laughter of the Death Eaters.

He wanted to call out to her, to tell her that Potter was alright, that he wasn't really dead. But he knew he had to stay silent. Even if he gave her some kind of signal of reassurance, they could be in trouble. Voldemort believed that Potter was dead, and if he didn't trust the reactions of all the boy's friends to the news, then he would become suspicious.

Trying not to give anything away through his expressions, he turned his attention to Voldemort as he started speaking, his voice amplified again to bellow across the grounds.

" _Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone._ "

At once all the voices opposite them were raised in an outcry of anger, protesting his cruel lies. The loudest among them were Ron and Hermione, her beautiful brown eyes swimming with tears as she declared her friend's bravery. Somehow the Dark Lord managed to silence the crowd with a bellowed word and a wave of his wand, as he continued to taunt them. His voice washed over Draco like a droning wave of spite, and he barely took in the words. He was too busy gazing at Hermione with worry. She was clearly grief stricken. What if she did something stupid and impulsive?

Draco didn't really pay attention again until Voldemort was calling for wizards – only purebloods of course – to switch over to his side. He was appealing of course to those few on the fringe who were likely to want to save their own skin, because he couldn't imagine any of those key Order members being disloyal to their cause. They were all passionate defenders of their deeply ingrained sense of morality.

Which is why he was so surprised when Neville strode forwards out from the rest of the crowd. He had his wand clenched tightly and was striding all too quickly towards the group. At first it seemed as if he was – unbelievably – taking up Voldemort's offer. But then his anger became clear to those before him. Bellatrix quickly and efficiently disarmed the poor Gryffindor boy, and he was thrown back a couple of steps. The gathered Death Eaters laughed cruelly.

"And who is this?" Voldemort asked coldly.

Bellatrix cackled in her high, grating voice and said,

"Neville Longbottom, my Lord – the son of those aurors remember?"

Voldemort smiled as if with fond recollection of the story of their torture. He began to speak to the boy, but Draco just stared past him at Hermione, willing her not to move, not to intervene. He saw the look of wild anguish on her face, the desperate need to act, to hurt someone as payback for the hurt she thought had been done to her friend. He even shuffled forward where others in the group had moved around in a semi-circle so that he would be closer to her. He held himself on the edge there, poised to act in case she did.

Voldemort was openly mocking poor Longbottom now, starting to launch into speeches about pureblood values. But to his credit, Neville held his own, sticking to his values with a stubborn sort of courage that only infuriated the Dark Lord further. He had to almost stop himself from snorting with a laugh of disbelief when the dark wizard started declaring Hogwarts as a school for only Slytherins. As if that was the solution to all the problems in the wizarding world. What a joke.

He looked up in surprise when there was a crashing sound from above, glass showering down amidst screams onto those standing below. The Dark Lord had summoned a floppy brown item to land in his bony fingers, and Draco watched in surprise as he realised it was the school Sorting Hat. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Looking back to the side and slightly behind him from where he was standing, he watched Voldemort's red, malevolent eyes with trepidation.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to fools who continue to oppose me," he yelled to the gathering forces on both sides. In one swift flourish of his wand, the hat soared from his hand and landed right on top of the Gryffindor's head, strangling him and muffling his entire face in its mouldy folds. Neville convulsed and stumbled backwards, his body thrashing about under the hat. The crowd behind him gasped and started to rush forwards to help him as the Death Eaters jeered and booed the poor boy. Voldemort growled at the people swarming forwards and flicked his wand again, making the hat burst into flames. They weren't normal flames, but a force of dark magic, crackling with blue static and consuming Neville's head entirely. The Death Eaters cheered as the Order were forced backwards, unable to approach the scorching fire and help him.

"NO!" Hermione screamed out in helpless rage, watching Neville suffer. Draco's eyes flickered to the side as well and saw Potter's brows furrowing together from where he still lay dangling in Hagrid's arms. No doubt he would do something heroic and self-sacrificing soon to step in and help.

A couple of things happened at once that altered his decisions in that moment. Hermione was stricken with panic, and Potter was probably on the verge of doing something stupid. And then the strangest thing happened. While Neville was shrieking and desperately grappling to remove the hat from his head, there was a clunking sound. From under the very hat itself, a sword appeared and thunked to the ground, its ruby hilt glittering, and its sharp edges gleaming in the encroaching light of dawn as it peaked over the horizon.

At the same time, Voldemort was hissing something incoherently behind him, and soon enough that damn snake, Nagini, was slithering forward to scoop up her next meal in the form of Longbottom. The snake writhed across the ground menacingly, arching its length in a graceful coil ready to strike.

Draco felt the air vanish from his lungs in a single breath. It was like time froze for a split second, and all his thoughts crystallised into one clear choice. It was time. He knew that he had to make his move eventually, and this was it. The Order were no help to Neville, the fire was being controlled by Voldemort to force them backwards, and was impervious to their spells. But he could slip in unnoticed and give him a chance to get free.

And there was another thought swirling through his mind that kept nagging at him. It was Potter staring meaningfully at his friends and saying " _now it's just the snake._ " Did that mean that the snake needed to die? All these things rushed through his head in the briefest of moments, but in the end they propelled him forwards into motion with barely a hint of hesitation.

Draco took a deep breath as he raced forwards. He was counting on the fact that his actions would be so baffling to the Death Eaters that they wouldn't think to hex him. They might even believe he was doing their dirty work somehow still. His heart was pounding with adrenalin as he made the long dash towards Longbottom. He had to wince and narrow his eyes against the unbearable heat from the magical flames hungrily devouring the sorting hat as he finally reached the poor boy thrashing in pain, where a giant fucking snake was readying itself to pounce on him.

In one fell swoop, Draco came barrelling in at top speed, skidding to a halt and scooping up the sword from where it had fallen on the ground. He put himself bodily between the burning figure of Neville and the snake. He was only just in time as Nagini came launching through the air, her mouth agape with fangs reared to pierce the flesh of her victim. Letting out a wordless scream of pent up rage, his body burning from the sprint and the effort of raising the heavy sword, he swung the weapon in a wide arc in front of him. A burst of savage joy flared up inside him when he watched through squinted eyes as the blade sliced cleanly through the neck of the snake and severed her head completely off.

The next moment the satisfaction had been sucked from him as a cold, almost black mist settled around him from her writhing body, a dark force exiting her body aggressively, battering against the closest figure, the one responsible for this act. It made his whole body shudder, and he dropped the sword with a yelp of pain. In the same instant, a loud cry of fury rose up from somewhere in front of him, and he managed to raise his head long enough to see the bared teeth and wild, livid eyes of Voldemort. It took him a moment to identify the emotion of the Dark Lord's face, but when he did it made his heart stutter back to life with renewed energy.

He was scared.

Behind him, Neville was given relief from the fire with Voldemort's distraction just long enough to wrestle the hat from his head. He looked visibly shaken, but still determined as he glared over at his enemies.

Then the real reaction began. All at once, the sea of Death Eaters before them burst out into a wave of shouts and cries of outrage, many yelling out " _TRAITOR_ " or other much ruder terms to describe him. He felt his palms sweat as he grasped his wand and held it in a tight, vice-like grip. The crowd before him prepared to attack as they raised their wands too, and Draco and Neville both simultaneously stumbled a few fearful steps back in the face of such a large opposition. But before any spells could hit them, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head to the side to see Hermione extending a shield charm over him to protect him. She didn't look at him; she was too focused on glaring with icy fury over at the Death Eaters below them on the lawn. He felt her hand squeeze him with relief and affection, but her concentration was intense. Out of the corner of his eye he saw some other figures stepping up to form a protective barrier, including his newly met cousin Nymphadora, and Minerva McGonagall looking enraged like a lioness protecting her cubs. And to make matters even better for them, he heard the drum-like thumping of hooves from packs of centaurs who had surrounded the Death Eaters from behind around the fringes of the forest, finally paying heed to the battle and choosing to side with the Light.

But even so, Draco wasn't sure that all of this would be enough to stop Voldemort himself. The manic wizard, eyes glinting with uncontrollable wrath, was striding towards them. He had his wand raised high in the air, his lips curling back into bestial snarl as he prepared to fire his first hex.

And that's when, _finally,_ Potter chose his perfect moment.

Draco had to give the boy credit; he knew how to cause the most dramatic distraction imaginable. It was chaos. Jumping down from Hagrid's giant arms, he yelled " _EXPELLIARMUS_ " at the top of his voice right at Voldemort's head, and the Dark Wizard only just managed to swat the spell away in his surprise. The whole battlefield froze to stare at him in disbelief as he stood there, very much alive and seemingly unharmed.

The first thing that happened was a wave of confused yelling amongst the Order, with some people shouting in shock, and others whooping with delight. Hermione's hand clenched down on his shoulder so hard he was sure to bruise. Then the Death Eaters began to react. And it was not what Draco had been expecting at all. About fifteen or so of them were scared shitless. They had truly believed that their lord had vanquished the boy, and now he stood there looking absolutely fearless and ready to fight. They panicked, trying to run away from the melee, and meeting the wall of centaurs behind them. Some started to disapparate away.

Others, the inner circle mostly, launched into battle with furious energy. Everything became a blur of hexes and spells as the two sides once more engaged in the blood bath.

"Where's Harry gone?" Hermione yelled into his ear fearfully. And sure enough, when he looked around Potter had completely disappeared. He swivelled his head a bit, but when a stinging hex flew by his ear he decided it was time for them both to get into a better position.

"I'm sure he's fine, Hermione," he yelled back, before he grabbed onto her hand and started to tug her towards the Entrance Hall. The battle was slowly moving up the hill towards the castle, and he wanted to get the best defensible spot for them. As they made their way through the archway, both of them were blasting spells back and forth, even as they kept their other hands gripped tightly together, palms sweating but still clinging on. A crashing sound rang out on their left, and they saw a large giant blunder his way towards the battle, aiming for a group of Death Eaters who were attacking Hagrid.

"HAGGED," the hulking figure moaned loudly. Draco winced as the giant was attacked viciously by spells, and pulled Hermione further away despite her protests. By the time he managed to coax her inside to where it might be safer away from all the horrible things emerging from the forest, the battle was well underway in there too. He had shot a nasty spell towards Dolohov when Hermione tugged on his hand to pull him towards where a few of the Weasleys were fighting – he could see the mother and daughter, and there were a couple of the obviously older brothers as well as one of the twins. They were working perfectly as a family unit together, and he thought it a good idea to join them, since they would all certainly protect Hermione with their lives.

An explosive blast of stone blocked their path and they both dodged quickly to the side. They took a moment to get their bearings, before Hermione once again spun them around towards the Weasleys. Suddenly he felt rather than saw her stop dead in her tracks, and he actually ran into her back a bit.

"Oof, Hermione, what's wr-" Draco froze too.

He stared ahead of them, a sinking sensation making his gut cramp up with nervous anger. He felt his palm sweat and his wand almost slipped from his grip. Hermione was panting a bit with fear as she looked ahead of them, and he felt her squeeze his hand. He tried to squeeze back a bit, but all his focus was consumed by the sight of the man standing before them, blocking their path with a sadistic, crazed grin. Draco had never felt such a wave of hatred in all his life.

With one quick motion, he tugged Hermione backwards so that she was standing behind him. He raised his head proudly and faced the monster who had raised him to be just like himself, savagely pleased that he had failed. He met the monster head on with a cold, murderous smile.

" _Lucius._ "

….

 **Woah. Another Cliff hanger. I'm so sorry. I'll update sooner this time though, because I'm on a break from work! We are really reaching the climax here. What will be the aftermath? Please review!**


	31. Finished

**Author's note: We pick up from our cliff hanger again here. This chapter was difficult to write actually. We are definitely winding down now in the story. I love all my reviewers; you help keep me enthused. Thanks for reading. As always, JKR is a big erumpent horn!**

Last time...

 _Draco had never felt such a wave of hatred in all his life._

 _With one quick motion, he tugged Hermione backwards so that she was standing behind him. He raised his head proudly and faced the monster who had raised him to be just like himself, savagely pleased that he had failed. He met the monster head on with a cold, murderous smile._

 _"Lucius."_

 _..._

Draco shuffled more to the side to make sure that he was keeping Hermione protected with his body. They were still clasping hands behind his back, but he felt a bit more secure knowing that any hexes would hit him first. He had been morbidly anticipating this confrontation, but he would be damned if he allowed Hermione to become involved. He saw his father's eyes widen furiously as he glanced across at her, sweeping down to take note of the way their hands were entwined in each other's. There was no mistaking their relationship, he supposed, reluctantly admitting that it put her in even more danger, but not wanting to let go yet. Lucius looked like he wanted to vomit. His face flushed a dark, angry red.

"Draco," his father hissed, baring his teeth in a way that reminded him of a savage dog, "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

Draco sneered, almost wanting to roll his eyes in frustration.

"What does it look like?" he snapped impatiently.

"You dare betray the Dark Lord's trust in our family? You dare to sully the name of Malfoy?"

The three of them had to duck as a hex ricocheted and came close over the top of them. Hermione let out a little gasp as she saw that it had come from Bellatrix's wand. The crazy witch was decimating her enemies left and right, with no regard for who she was actually hitting.

"You destroyed our name long before I ever had a chance, Lucius," Draco spat, his wand shaking in his hand as he pointed it directly at his father's heart.

"I gave you all the privilege and wealth in the world, and you throw it back in my face. And for what? This mudblood whore?" His father was shouting now, spittle flying from his lips as he gestured madly towards Hermione.

"Shut up," Draco growled, inching forwards and jabbing his wand threateningly in front of him.

"Honestly, Draco, if all you wanted was some piece of muggle trash to open her legs for you, I could have arranged to give you one as a pet."

Draco fired a curse at the man, his blood pounding so hard it was like a drumming in his ears, blocking out all other sound. Lucius blocked it easily, throwing one back that made Draco stumble a bit. His father was lacking in many ways, but duelling certainly wasn't one of them. He was callous and unpredictable, and Draco felt the adrenalin of fear rise up in him as his mind whirled with how he could get the better of the experienced fighter. Maybe distracting him wasn't such a bad idea.

"Yeh? Well guess what? I've been in love with this particular muggleborn for years."

"Don't be ridiculous," his father shouted, "You're a bloody coward and a liar. Your mother made you weak. You would never have the gall to act so treacherously otherwise."

Draco saw the crazed look in his father's eye, and knew that he was succeeding in making the older man lose focus.

"You think so? Well I was strong enough to get her out of the mansion when Aunt Bella was torturing her," his father just gaped in response, his normally pale face reddening with confused horror at his son's revelation. Draco continued, hoping to push him far enough to slip up, "She's been living with me ever since. And I've been giving information to the Order all evening. I even lied about Potter being dead."

Draco listed off his betrayals very quickly, the skin above his lip sweating uncomfortably as he thought desperately of a way to get past Lucius and get Hermione to safety.

"You little piece of shit," his father hissed, as another hex shot past them and into the wall nearby, sharp fragments of stone bursting out in a cloud of dust, "You're a disgrace to the Malfoy name."

"Like father like son then," he retorted, but staggered again when Lucius threw another curse at him. He felt the spell hit a hastily constructed shield, and out of the corner of his eye saw that Hermione had raised her own wand to defend him.

"You are _NOT_ my son," Lucius growled, before he spat at the ground between them, "I have no son."

Draco tried to slip a hex past the older man's defences, hoping that he was distracted enough, but Lucius batted it away just in time.

"How does it feel, knowing that your own son and wife both hated you? That mother killed herself just to get away from you?"

"She was sick," Lucius cried out with wide, traumatised eyes, clouded with a deep sense of denial. Draco was sure that he had loved his wife in the beginning, on some level. Even though the match had been arranged, he had some faint memories of them showing fondness, even slightly stiff affection towards each other when he was little. But that was before the man had begun his descent into sadistic madness.

"She was broken by your selfish ambition and brutality," Draco accused, firing another hex. Lucius blocked it easily and shot one back, which battered against Hermione's shield with a sort of tinkling sound.

"She chose her own ending. What a shame you won't have the same opportunity."

Draco only just managed to dodge the blast of green light that shot past his right ear. He had pulled Hermione down to the side with him the moment he saw the curse materialise from his father's wand. Even though he was sort of expecting it, he still felt a shiver of surprise that Lucius had used an Avada on him.

"Really? You're going to kill your only heir?"

"You are NO heir of mine, you shall receive _nothing_. Not now that you have dirtied yourself in the arms of your mudblood slut."

Draco just laughed cruelly in his father's face.

"And you know what? I don't give a fuck about your money!"

"You've certainly changed your tune," Lucius sneered, "But then again you were always a spoilt, pathetic child, and now look at you. You just grew up into a snivelling, pitiful wreck."

"Better a wreck of my own making, than being anything like _you._ How could you raise a child to be so hateful? Do you have any idea how hard it was to turn my back on what you taught me? How much strength that took?"

Lucius muttered something about 'weakness' instead of strength, but he was clearly concentrating hard to deflect the number of spells that Draco had started to aim his way after his little speech. His strategy seemed to be working, because his father was really struggling to deal out his worst. He was so outraged and filled with helpless fury that his spells were sloppy and more easily defended than they would usually be. Draco didn't bother kidding himself that it was because Lucius felt any spark of remorse for trying to kill his own son; it was purely because he was too incensed to focus properly on his duelling skills.

Draco felt a fierce determination as he snapped hex after hex at his father. The fight between them was well and truly underway. Neither of them bothered to exchange any more pointless words of hate or disappointment, they were beyond that now. He was trying hard to either disarm the man or stun him. It didn't even cross his mind to use any more severe spells than that. He would much rather see Lucius rotting away in Azkaban for the rest of his deplorable life than to be killed by his own hand. He had enough murder on his conscience without the blood of his father, no matter how much the bastard deserved it. His father seemed to have given up on the killing curse, since it was such a big drain on one's energy, and was using much more primitive slicing spells that would probably tear open Draco's insides if they got past his defences.

When he managed to knock his father back a step or two, forcing the man's own spell to rebound a bit and make a deep gash in his arm, he felt a swell of victorious adrenalin. He let his eyes dart quickly to the side to check on Hermione. His heart skipped. Draco had been so focused on his confrontation with Lucius that he hadn't even realised any other Death Eaters had approached. Not far from them, Kingsley Shacklebolt, an auror from the Ministry of Magic was fighting ferociously against two bulky Death Eaters, and Hermione herself was engaged in a savage duel with Dolohov. She seemed do be handling herself alright, dodging this was and that as the much larger man beared down upon her. Dolohov was cackling wildly, his rotten teeth visible in the wide stretch of his feral grin. He was continuously firing some hex that had a purple tinge to it, as if he were taunting her. And when Draco's eyes flickered to Hermione he saw her gaze on the Death Eater was steely with grim determination. She looked terrifying to be honest.

Draco's lingering shield charm only just held strong under the force of another blow from Lucius, prying his attention back to the fight at hand. It wasn't a good idea to let himself become distracted, and there were others nearby coming to help Hermione with her duel. Even dorky old Percy Weasley was launching himself in to help her with an animalistic growl, his wand flying around in a blur.

It took another few minutes for him to get the upper hand once more. He had to use some dirty tricks, casting charms on the floor to shift around the rubble and make Lucius lose his footing, and use a blinding hex to dazzle the other man with light. But he managed to bounce back a couple of Lucius's own spells in a row eventually, and grinned in triumph as he saw a deep cut slice across the man's chest. The older blond grunted in pain and doubled over. This was it.

Before Draco had a chance to stun him, he was momentarily distracted by a loud cheering from the other side of the hall. A number of current and past students who he recognised from Hogwarts were yelling and clapping their hands in triumph. Even Professor Sprout, who was normally quite a formal old lady in her beloved greenhouses, was whooping madly with delight. He followed their gazes and saw glimpses of little figures dashing in amongst the wizards, carrying utensils as weapons and screaming in little high-pitched voices. It was the house elves, storming into battle to protect their precious castle and its students. They were a sight to behold, that was for sure. Their cute, tiny bodies belied the ferocity with which they fought, using ancient magic that they held and rarely used for any task but cleaning and cooking, but which was more powerful than most wizards probably realised. He was pretty sure he saw old Dobby in there somewhere, running alongside a much older elf that was yelling out the name 'Harry Potter' like a sycophant, and there was the slight blur of a pink tutu as well. He heard Hermione gasp behind him and he could practically hear the squeal of pride she gave watching them take on these mighty wizards. These were dark humans who they would normally find so terrifying, and yet here they were standing up for what was right instead of cowering away in their kitchen. Draco could only agree with the sentiment on her face; it was magnificent.

But the momentary distraction of their entrance was devastating. Draco had looked away for a few short seconds while Lucius was injured, and in that time his father had spotted his weakness and exploited it. He felt the hex before he even saw it. A dull, constricting pressure hit his chest right between his ribs, the spell battering into his shield charm and crushing it. He was incredibly luckily that he did not cop the full force of the slicing curse. It smacked into him with bruising force, though, and in one split second he felt all the air sucked from his lungs. He became dizzy as his body flew backwards to land on the ground in a slightly unco-ordinated heap of arms and legs. His hand grappled in a panic at his chest, trying to draw in breaths of air, but he was badly winded. He was moving his mouth desperately but not managing to take in much more than very tiny puffs of air. He shot one or two silent spells towards Lucius to try and halt his onslaught, but his father wasn't stupid. He pressed his advantage, and soon Draco was using up all his concentration on just defending himself from the ground. His father had advanced a couple of strides, and Draco felt his heart pounding painfully against his fractured ribs as he tried weakly to stand up again.

When he finally made it back up onto his hands and knees, another spell battered him, and he was sent sprawling again, the intensity of the curse flaring up through his entire body and making him twitch on the ground with a cry of pain. He wondered dimly if this was it. After everything, was he just going to be brutally slain by his own father? Bloody hell, he hoped not. He clambered for his wand, but a third curse hit him just as he gripped it. He shivered on the ground, immobile.

 _Why doesn't he just kill me?_ He thought with a sort of detached curiosity, trying to shut away the pain in the back of his mind by wondering what made the older man want to play around with his conquest instead of just end this.

He managed to peer up at Lucius through the strands of blond hair that were drooping limply across his eyes from the sweat. His father was towering over him, his eyes cold with malice, and his lips curled up into a terrifying, cruel smile. The man looked so furiously excited that his wand was trembling in his blood soaked hand. He was physically shuddering with the thrill of torturing his own son. And yet there was a sweaty sort of insanity coming from him; he reeked of it.

Draco met his father's eye with stubborn confidence, secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened now, he had done everything he could do to become a better man. He had Hermione. And that gave him the fortitude to stare death head on now, knowing that it would be kinder to him now than it would be to Lucius one day. He hoped the man ended up in whatever form of hell death could imagine for him.

"Should I kill you now, or let you suffer some more?" his father muttered quietly, his voice sickly cold as he pondered his only child lying prostrate on the ground before him.

" _NOOO!_ " Draco heard Hermione scream in anguish from where she had been fighting. She had obviously finished and turned to see this little tableau, of him sprawled out in front of Lucius, about to be murdered. He heard her feet pound on the stone floor as she tried to run over, but they had both drifted quite far away from each other.

Draco tried to hold his father's eye contact, willing him to ignore her in favour of following through with his kill, but it was a vain wish. The moment that Hermione screamed she caught his attention. His smiled turned from cold to predatory, like a child plotting revenge on some make believe enemy. It was a chilling expression.

"No! No, _no no_ …" he pleaded weakly, but it was too late.

Lucius raised his eyes and Draco watched helplessly as he threw a powerful curse directly at the curly haired witch as she approached, completely unprepared for the sudden change in his attention. As he did, he kicked Draco hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling to the side, his body now facing where the witch was falling to the ground nearby. So that he would see everything. She was clutching a clearly bruised shoulder, the same way Draco had been sent down with a pummelling force, but thank merlin she was still breathing steadily. It had missed her chest.

Lucius stepped over his son and strode towards her, raising his wand menacingly. It all happened so quickly, but to Draco it seemed to last an eternity. He saw Hermione's eyes widen in shock, before flicking to his quickly and back. He desperately fought to get to her, managing to roll onto his stomach and drag himself towards his wand, which lay idly on the stone floor. As he did, he looked around for someone, _anyone,_ to help them. But Voldemort was a ruthless machine, taking down anyone who got too close, while Bellatrix and some of her allies mopped up the rest with ruthless efficiency. No one was close enough to stop him.

Lucius was forming the spell loudly on his spiteful lips, bringing down his wand in a wide arc, when a piercing pop cracked through the entrance hall. In the split second before the slicing curse fatally hit Hermione across the heart, Tilly appeared out of thin air in her ruffled pink dress, launching herself forwards to shield the witch with her little body.

Draco watched in undisguised horror as the scene played out in front of him. As the whooshing air of the spell approached, Hermione took a loud, gasping breath of air, but then flinched at the unexpected apparition of the elf in front of her. A bright swathe of pink tutu and sequins burst to life, curling around her body in a protective embrace. The elf's big eyes were squeezed shut in terror as the spell hit her instead. When it did, there was a pause during which all three of them froze to watch her. Draco knew that it was all in his own mind, but time, movement and sound seemed to stop around them as he held his breath, the rest of the battle fading away into eerie stillness. Hermione could barely breathe herself, her face a picture of despair as the elf pulled back, standing up away from the witch. Tilly was clutching onto her belly, but no matter how hard he tried, from where he was lying Draco simply couldn't see what was happening.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucius swear and raise his wand again to get Hermione properly this time. He managed to mobilise into action now that he had crawled most of the way towards his wand. He threw a silent curse upwards, not even really looking to see if it hit is mark, but heard his father groan in pain as he was knocked off his feet.

Draco heaved his way across the rubble towards them. When he finally got there, Tilly was blinking in surprise and holding her hand up to the light almost curiously. Her fingers were stained with blood. Hermione was crying openly, trying to check the elf, and holding her wand out with shaking hands. Tilly turned her big eyes towards him when he reached them. She looked confused.

"Master?" she squeaked questioningly, before her gaze became unfocused and she stumbled on her little legs. Draco caught her before she could fall, and gently lowered her to the ground.

"Tilly!" Hermione started to say in a tremulous voice, "You're going to be okay, let's just have a look at it, and we'll heal you. Make it all better."

They managed to prop Tilly up on Draco's legs, as Hermione encouraged the little elf to relax. She managed to prise her long fingers away from the wound, and they both simultaneously choked out a little gasp when it was revealed to them. The curse had created a deep gash in her chest; the blood had soaked through her pink dress and the fabric was singed around the wound. It looked bad. There was blood pouring out from the cut, far too much for such a little elf.

"Master…" she stammered fearfully, and Draco lifted his eyes from her chest to meet her gaze.

"It's alright, Tilly," he said in voice that he tried to keep calm, but sounded distressed even to his own ears, "We're going to heal you."

"S'not poss..ble," the little elf murmured, sounding tired and slurring her words a bit.

"Of course it is," Hermione stammered, her hands fussing over the wound as if totally unsure how to start, "Just like you healed me, remember?"

Tilly nodded her head, before letting out a little hiccough.

"I'd do anythn…for…Ms Hrm..nn"

"Tilly!" he said more loudly, cupping her face in his dust caked hand as she started to drift off. The feel of his hand softly touching her cheek made her eyes open again to peer up at him blearily. She spoke in a croaky whisper, and they could both plainly hear the blood gurgling, frothing up from her fragile lungs.

"Master -Tilly doesn't…want…clothes."

Her voice was getting more and more weak, and he could see Hermione trying frantically to stop the blood flow as she fished around in her bag for something.

"What do you mean, Tilly? I'm not going to give you clothes," he said quietly. Tilly was staring up at him, and although her eyelids were drooping and her pupils were unfocused, he knew she was pleading with him directly, trying to gaze lovingly up at him as she so often did.

"Please dn't…gve…me… clothes."

"Why would I give you clothes, Tilly? You're the best elf a wizard like me could ever ask for!"

"I don't want…to…leave you."

Draco felt his vision get blurry, and he tried to furiously blink away the tears that were clouding his eyes. He felt a hot aching sensation in his chest as if his heart was being clenched tightly in a burning fist.

"I'll _never_ give you clothes," he promised heatedly, his voice thick, "You belong to me, and I belong to you. No clothes. Ever."

Tilly smiled then, vaguely, her wrinkly lips curling up just a little at the sides. She looked as if her dreams had just come true. Draco could smell the pungent tang of murtlap essence invade his nostrils, and through his tears he could just make out Hermione trying to dab some on the wound. But it wasn't working as it should. Every time the skin sealed over, it would tear itself open once more, making Tilly wince in pain all over again.

"No clothes," Tilly echoed quietly, her eyes drooping almost shut with a tender smile on her face. Her body seemed to slacken a bit against him, making him shake her gently and panic.

"Tilly!" he called again, not wanting her to slip away if there was something Hermione could still do for her. She murmured weakly again,

"Master…'m so… _cold_."

He could feel her tiny body shuddering, and he ripped off his Death Eater cloak, which was still draped over his shoulders, and nestled it in around her sides and on her arms where he could see goose bumps.

"It's wrong," he whispered, feeling absolutely distraught – hating the way the black, silky fabric looked around her petite form. How could he lay her down to die wearing that horrible thing?

"Draco…I can't…I don't think I can help her-" Hermione said with a little moan of anguish, and he blinked and looked up at her. There were tears pouring down her cheeks freely, and she was shaking her head with numb disbelief. He looked back down at the elf who was taking shuddering, rasping breaths in and out, only just holding on.

"I don't want her to go…not wearing this," he muttered despairingly, gesturing with resentment towards the soulless black material of the Death Eater cloak Hermione nodded quickly, a few teardrops falling off the bottom of her jaw and dripping onto Tilly like rain. She tugged a handkerchief out of her pocket, and then waved her wand with a gentle flourish over the material. It expanded into a little elf-sized blanket, which she then charmed to be bright rainbow colours in a patchwork pattern. It was perfect. Draco felt himself choke on a sob as Hermione performed a neat little spell that transferred the quilt into position around the elf. Tilly felt the beautifully soft woollen material against her arms and cheek, and she snuggled into it like a baby. Hermione had even cast a spell on it to make it warmer. Draco could feel its heat against his thighs.

"Mmmm…" Tilly let out the little moan of comfort, her body relaxing more and more into the little bed.

"No clothes," he whispered, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on the elf's forehead, "Never".

….

He felt like he was there for an age, cradling his little friend as she died in his arms. It wasn't until Hermione gave a loud gasp of surprise that Draco even remembered that he was huddled to one side of a violent battle between good and evil. It was like the fighting around him had become a distant memory, unable to penetrate his sorrow. Despite feeling so lethargic with grief, he raised his head too and was astounded at what he saw.

Lucius had been knocked unconscious by his vicious, last ditch attempt of an attack earlier. But he had eventually regained his senses and taken up his wand again. Unfortunately for him, he had pissed off the wrong group of magical creatures. Draco watched in numb disbelief as the house elves of Hogwarts marched on the petrified Death Eater.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

The first crack of magic knocked him to his knees with a wail. Then a little hand pulled back his blond hair in an angry fist, holding his head in place. A series of quick dashes flew past him, tiny elves casting their handiwork. The pale skin of his face was shredded by little cuts and gashes. Just like Tilly.

The elves were chanting, a dark hymn in a language that Draco didn't understand. They looked furious, out for his blood. Lucius was yelling at them in helpless rage, calling them "vermin" and barking orders at them as if he hoped they would obey a commanding tone. It felt like five minutes that they watched him being tortured by these creatures as revenge for the loss of one of their own, even though Tilly was not from Hogwarts herself. The illusion of the might of pureblood wizards was shattered beneath the power of a group of tiny little house elves. Finally they put him out of his misery. It took one twist of the hand around his neck to snap it. Lucius crumpled to the floor, nothing more or less than any of the other corpses littering the ground of the entrance hall.

As the house elves cheered their victory, more uproar to their left drew their attention as they hear Bellatrix scream in agony. It was chaos.

Draco looked over in stunned surprise as the slightly dour, rounded figure of Molly Weasley stood proud before the crazy witch, dealing the fatal blow that wiped the sadistic bitch from the face of the earth.

Draco felt numb. His father and aunt were just killed brutally before his very eyes within a few seconds of each other, and yet his heart still ached with grief for the tiny body of this dear little house elf, cradled in his arms, who had shown him a hundred times more kindness than any other person in his childhood.

He heard Hermione take in a deep sucking breath of concern as a figure became visible near them a moment later. It was all happening too quickly for him to take in. Potter had appeared in the centre of the Entrance Hall, standing opposite Voldemort in an age-old pose; a fight to the death. The crowd shuffled around, much closer to where they were sitting, and several hands reached down to help them up. Draco let himself be coaxed away from Tilly's lifeless body, knowing that there was nothing he could do now to help or comfort her. He turned almost blindly to the person who had helped him up and saw Blaise giving him a grimace of worry. He checked his friend over for injuries, and saw that despite being completely smothered in dirt and grime, his friend appeared okay. Draco clapped a hand to Blaise's shoulder in gratitude for the support, and the two friends stood close together as they turned to watch Potter. Hermione had been helped up by Ron, and she now stood between them, biting into her bottom lip furiously as she watched her best friend enter into what would most likely by the final confrontation.

When the others were distracted, he allowed his feet to shuffle a bit to the side to be near her. Reaching over, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Hermione was trembling with fear. He rubbed the skin of her hip soothingly, finding comfort in the closeness of their bodies in these final moments. It would all be over soon.

He barely listened to what Potter was saying, but he was impressed with how calm the boy sounded. He was so confident. Surely the boy-who-lived-twice must know something that they and the Dark Lord didn't. He was too self-assured. Too certain that this would all work out in his favour. He even had the gall to suggest that Voldemort should try to feel some remorse. What worried Draco the most was the bit where they spoke about Snape. It was clear that he had been involved in all this somehow, but both wizards were frustratingly vague on the details. He wished he knew where the old potions master was now.

Draco listened in confusion as they started yammering on about the Elder Wand. He felt a bit fuzzy with confusion at the strange topic. That was, until _his_ name came up. He felt all eyes in the hall turn towards him briefly, and he shifted uncomfortably. Potter's voice was clear, ringing through the hall.

"…until I disarmed him yesterday evening at the Hog's Head. From that moment on the elder wand recognised that its owner had been beaten by someone else, and began to recognise that person as its true master…me."

Draco swore quietly under his breath. He could hear Blaise chuckle slightly beside him, and Hermione returned his embrace with a squeeze of comfort.

 _Bloody Potter,_ he thought with a grimace, wondering why the speckled git had to announce to the whole damn hall that he had beaten him. It was hardly a fair fight, he just shot a disarming spell at him the moment he entered the room. Although it did make his mind wander back to earlier when he had felt something wrong with his own wand. Maybe the shift in allegiance was something you could actually sense in the very feel of the wood itself.

Voldemort had clearly had enough of their discussion. His eyes had darkened with evil intent throughout the conversation, and he was beginning to shift anxiously in anticipation. The time for talking was definitely over.

Draco wasn't sure what he had been expecting, maybe some big impressive duel between the two wizards. But the reality was quite different. All it took was one single spell.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _"Expelliarmus!"_

The spells clashed brightly in the middle of the entrance hall, making the crowd flinch and gasp from the burst of light. But what happened next was almost unbelievable. Voldemort's own killing curse was driven back by Potter's simple disarming spell. It hit him square on and, before anyone could really take in what was happening, he had crumpled to the floor in a sprawling agitation of limbs, lifeless.

Voldemort was dead.

….

 **Not long to go now. Probably two more chapters. Please don't hate me. I actually got a bit teary writing this chapter… Please review. What are your hopes for the ending?**


	32. Grieved

**Author's Note: Thank you for enduring all the way to the almost-end, readers! There will be one more chapter after this and then we're done. Welcome to a few new readers who have been binging to catch up; your timing is impeccable! As always, JKR is definitely** ** _not_** **a squib.**

...

The slow, plodding hustle and bustle around them was slightly uncomfortable. People left and right were shooting them confused, amazed or sometimes suspicious glares as they went about their business. For his part, Draco just tried to avoid eye contact, or hide his nervousness behind a mask of arrogance. In other words, he tried to look like he owned the damn castle, an expression he had received much practice with in his younger years at Hogwarts. He saw Blaise stick his tongue out a bit immaturely once or twice to shock passing whisperers, and shook his head in frustration.

"Cut it out, Blaise! Do you _want_ them to turn us over to the bloody aurors?"

Blaise chuckled.

"Not my problem, friend. I'm an innocent bystander helping poor little first years escape. _You're_ the big bad Death Eater."

"Don't remind me," Draco drawled crossly, glaring down at his forearm. He didn't know why he had been expecting the ugly mark to disappear at Voldemort's passing. He had hoped it would maybe fade or something. But other than becoming a bit greyer than it had been before, it was still a horrific reminder of where he had stood not too long ago. He didn't really blame some people for sneering at him distrustfully as they paced in front of him. He wasn't exactly welcome, especially by those close to Hermione. There had been a few murmurs of disbelief and disdain when the fight had concluded and the princess of Gryffindor had thrown herself into _his_ arms of all people. While most of the hall had erupted in celebration of the victory, he had been surprised by a mass of curly hair descending on him and almost knocking him over as she sobbed into his chest. He must have held her there for an age, just rubbing her back and whispering soothing words into her riotous mane, pressing comforting kisses to the soft spot of skin just below her ear. He had needed the moment of comfort just as much as she had. That last confrontation with his father had been intense and had ripped all the energy and spirit from him. And then there was Tilly…

Draco shook his head sadly, remembering the way Hermione had cooed the little elf's name mournfully as they had embraced in the middle of the entrance hall, while others cheered and applauded around them, oblivious to their pain in that moment. Eventually Harry had managed to push his way through the crowd, looking for his best friends. He had shared a quick, very sad moment with the Weasel where they seemed to communicate with each other in silent intensity before the red head re-joined his family. Then the boy who lived had turned to Hermione. He grimaced when he saw her huddled in Draco's arms, shuddering with tears. Draco had exchanged a quick, knowing glance with him, before shaking the witch to get her attention, and then carefully unwinding her arms and transferring her to her friend. When she had noticed Harry she had immediately thrown herself at the messy haired boy just as she had earlier with Draco. He gasped a bit for breath, chuckling in her ear as she squeezed him. Around them he could hear the excited chatter of voices, occasionally disrupted by agonised wails or moans of grief or loss. It had been the most bizarre atmosphere, with no one really sure how to act, or what to say. And it had only continued to become more and more surreal as they collected the dead and wounded and moved into the Great Hall to sort out all the mess.

"They lost a lot," Blaise commented darkly, and Draco's mind was pulled back to the present where he and the other Slytherin were sitting off to one side of the hall. He was surprised by the uncommonly dark look on his friend's face.

Draco scanned the room with hooded, tired eyes.

"Yes, we did," he agreed quietly.

Hermione had left him a while back to huddle over in one corner with the Weasleys. They were mourning their losses just like everyone else. One of the twins – Draco wasn't exactly sure which one – had been killed in a blast. It wasn't a pretty sight. The whole family were gathered around in a bundle of arms and teary words of disbelief at the tragedy. The remaining twin was inconsolable. He saw Hermione hugging one of the other older brothers, and then Arthur Weasley, but she kept glancing a bit guiltily to the side. Then he followed her eyes and saw Ron keeping a rather stiff distance from her, clearly still sulking about losing her, and he grit his teeth in anger. The git could at least put his petty problems aside in a moment like this to support each other.

He did another sweep of the hall, hoping to see Severus lurking somewhere around, but a feeling of foreboding had settled upon him when his Godfather was still nowhere to be seen. He pushed the growing thought from his mind, not wanting to face it yet. Draco also noticed that Harry was missing from the gathering of gingers, and he frowned in confusion. He wondered where the saviour of the wizarding world had gone in this time of grief and elation.

At that moment his thoughts were interrupted by the surprise arrival of Neville Longbottom. The previously round-faced Gryffindor boy was striding over to the two Slytherins sitting slightly apart from the rest of the mourners. He was surprised to see the wide, toothy grin spread across Longbottom's face. Most of the other younger people there who knew them from school had been scowling over at them as if they were interrupting something, or their mere presence was an offense. But the now wise looking boy approached with more confidence than Draco had ever believed he possessed. He thrust his hand forwards and stood patiently while Draco contemplated the gesture quietly.

Eventually he reached his own hand out and the two of them shook. A few eyebrows around the room rose in surprise, watching the interaction curiously.

"Malfoy. You saved my life," Neville said in a sincere, humbling tone as their hands remained connected briefly.

"It wasn't…I was just-"

"It's alright," he laughed, seeing Draco's stumbling excuses already forming on his lips, "You don't have to be ashamed of saving a Gryffindor. We're not all bad."

Draco chuckled and shook his head.

"It's not that. I just think it was second nature. You would have done the same for me."

"Maybe," Neville said with an impish smile, "maybe not. Nevertheless, your actions saved me from becoming snake meat. I don't know how I will repay your courage."

"That's…fine. I hope you're not too hurt from that bloody hat."

Neville laughed again and rubbed the back of his head self-consciously.

"I'm a bit singed in the hair department, but otherwise it was mostly just a crucio disguised to look like flames."

"I thought so," he said with a nod, and Neville gave a cavalier sort of smile that made him look as if torture was no big deal. Beside him, his friend made a snorting noise of disbelief.

"Alright, that's enough!" Blaise interrupted and put his hands up, palms open, looking a bit comical with his wide eyes, "Who are you, and what have you done with the _real_ Neville Longbottom?"

Draco rolled his eyes at his friend's lack of diplomacy. Luckily, Neville just laughed, shaking his head with amusement at the comment.

"Hey, that's a bit rich!" he retorted with a grin, "Your friend Malfoy here is clearly involved with one Hermione Granger – Gryffindor muggleborn and best friend of Harry Potter. That's a more shocking turn of events, don't you think?"

Blaise shot him a sly look.

"That's true," he admitted dryly, "I guess there's a hell frozen over somewhere that resembles this."

Neville chuckled again, while Draco blushed a bit.

"Yeh! So uh…what's up with that?" the Gryffindor boy asked, but Draco just shrugged and tried to look casual about it.

"It's a long story."

"I'll bet. So are you her…boyfriend now?"

He tried to repress a smile, but it still managed to creep its way onto his face.

"Yeh…I guess I am," he said, feeling rather pleased with himself. Blaise slapped him on the back with a laugh.

"Please don't get him started," his friend groaned, "He'd such a poncy sap where she's concerned!"

Neville only looked more and more curious, but wisely stayed quiet and didn't ask any more questions.

The three of them turned and looked over the room when they heard a sudden wail of despair. Draco felt a clenching of something, maybe remorse, when he saw Nymphadora Tonks – his newly met cousin – howling in grief as Madam Pomfrey pulled a sheet up over the face of the man lying near her. Draco peered over just as the sheet was being dropped and recognised the face of his old Defence professor from third year; Lupin. He remembered again hearing Bellatrix whining about how her niece had married and had a child with a werewolf. He felt oddly sad, which only increased when he looked over at Hermione and saw a fresh wave of tears cascade down her face when she realised what had happened. The man's injuries had obviously proven too much, and they had lost him.

"Oh no, poor Tonks!" Neville murmured forlornly, his brow creasing up in sympathy. Draco sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He didn't even really know his cousin, they had literally met a few hours ago, but realised with a horrified start that her and his aunt – Andromeda – were now the only family he had left living.

Some kind of strange force within him drew Draco to his feet. Ignoring the queries of the two boys with him, he felt himself weaving his way through the people milling around and towards the crouched, hunched over figure of his cousin.

When he got there, he paused for a moment in uncertainty. But then he felt his courage rise up and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. Tonks looked up, blinking blearily through her tears to see her comforter. Her brows raised in stunned surprise when she saw him. Draco watched in trepidation as she rose to her feet on shaky legs and stared at him through wet eyes. He thought for a moment that she might slap him or tell him to fuck off, but she didn't. Instead she suddenly threw herself into his arms just as Hermione had done not long ago. He let out a little huff of surprise when she barrelled into his chest and it took him a couple of moments to figure out that he should put his arms around her. Draco held onto her tightly, looking over her shoulder and seeing Hermione give him a shaky, sad smile and a nod of encouragement from where she stood further away.

He stood there with his cousin for a long time, studiously ignoring the baffled looks on the faces of those who thought he was still an evil Death Eater. But after a while they turned their gazes away and continued with their own grieving, accepting that he wasn't trying to cause any trouble.

"I'm really sorry, Tonks," he murmured quietly into her hair as her sobs subsided. She pulled back after a moment to look at him. Her eyes were bright red from crying, and her face was flushed. Her hair had turned a dull mousy brown colour, and hung limply around her face.

"Oh Draco…" she sniffled croakily, wiping her eyes and rubbing her nose on her sleeve, "You were so…so _brave_ out there."

He nodded and smiled, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked gently.

"Um… I need to contact my mum. She needs to bring me…the…the baby…"

Draco nodded quickly and asked her a few more questions to help him. The look of relief and gratefulness she gave him as she hugged him once more was so strong that he felt a bit nervous to receive such affection. It didn't take long to organise her request. He sent off an owl message from the front of the slightly demolished entrance hall a short time later, asking his aunt Andromeda to come as quickly as she could to the castle. He had left Tonks in the capable hands of Professor Flitwick, who had been her old Head of House when she was at school, and he was doing a good job of consoling her now.

He sighed and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air that blew into the front entrance. He looked out on the grounds where people were still dragging the bodies of Death Eaters to one side for the ministry to deal with. Other than the stench of corpses and fading magic in the air, it was really quite peaceful here. He thought of poor Tilly's body lying with those other poor souls back in the hall. She had been laid down with her rainbow blanket, and the other house elves had made a wreath for her. Draco just hoped he could do the right thing by her soon, and take her back to his cottage to be buried properly in her favourite garden. She had grown to love her little herb garden out the back these last few months. Just as she had grown to love Hermione.

" _Pssst…_ "

Draco frowned, looking around him but seeing no one in the nearby vicinity. He heard the sound again and looked more closely, jumping a bit in shock when he saw who it was. Potter's head was floating in mid air in front of him, at the top of the front steps. He blinked a couple of times, his eyes roving up and down to try and see his body, but it was really just a head. Draco remembered seeing the golden trio disappear during the battle earlier underneath a cloak, and he became suspicious. He had always thought that Potter had access to something that made him invisible. He'd been complaining to Snape about it for years. And now his theories were confirmed.

"Potter," he grumbled, "What the bloody hell are you doing hiding out here?"

"I'm not hiding!" the boy argued, but Draco just gave him a quirk of one eyebrow in a wry expression, looking down at his invisible body. "Alright, fine," he admitted a bit petulantly, "I just wanted a bit of time alone to get some things done."

Draco snorted.

"What, slaying the Dark Lord wasn't enough?"

"I suppose not," he replied with a self-deprecating smile, "I had to have a quick chat to a portrait, and then put my old wand back together."

Draco bristled a bit at the mention of a wand, and crossed his arms in front of him.

"Yeh, about _that,_ " he sneered, "What did you do to my damn wand exactly?"

Potter's smile faded a bit, looking quite sheepish.

"Oh…you heard that. Of course you did," he rubbed his reddened scar a bit nervously, "Sorry. But I guess it all worked out in the end, didn't it? Thanks to you, anyway. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't lied to Voldemort…"

"I know what would've happened," he drawled, "You would've been eviscerated."

"Yeh, I suppose. Well, thank you. And for the snake. You turned out to be pretty useful in a sticky spot," Potter smiled a bit mischievously, clearly goading him.

Draco glared at him for another few seconds before he decided to let it go. He dropped his shoulders into a more relaxed stance, and huffed softly.

"You're very lucky that you're everybody's heroic knight in shining armour, otherwise I'd beat the shit out of you."

The other boy grinned and shuffled on his feet.

"Actually, I think I should be the one threatening _you._ "

Draco cocked his head to the side.

"Oh, really?"

Potter's smile twitched a bit and dropped.

"Hermione is like a sister to me…"

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Oh Merlin, here we go-"

"Hey! I'm serious. She's my family. We're family! And you're not exactly the number one person I would have chosen for her."

"No kidding," Draco drawled, "I guess you'd prefer it if she was with your Weasel friend."

Harry smiled a bit grimly.

"Actually no. To be honest you're probably a step up from Ron for her…"

Draco felt his mouth drop open in surprise, and Harry quickly rushed to explain,

"I mean, I love Ron too, he's my best mate, even if he can be a bit…stubborn. But they just don't suit each other. He'd probably drive her mental and she'd make him feel insecure, and they'd argue all the time until it would eventually just implode in their faces and ruin their friendship."

Draco's brows shot up high on his forehead.

"Well…that's unexpectedly insightful of you Potter."

"I have my moments."

There was a slightly awkward pause between the two boys. Then Harry rubbed at his scar again – it was obviously a nervous tic of his – and sighed out a long breath.

"Look, Malfoy…Hermione is the only one who stuck with me through everything. I was absolutely devastated when we couldn't get back into the manor to rescue her that night. And I thought she'd been… well, it almost destroyed me. Even with all the people close to me who have died, that was the worst. I didn't think I'd be able to keep going. Sorry, I'm rambling…"

Draco shrugged, for the first time in his life not really feeling irritated at Potter for his overly sentimental drivel. He was surprised to realise that it actually felt kind of nice, knowing that Hermione had a true, loyal friend in Potter. It seemed he had underestimated the scruffy haired Gryffindor boy and his dedication to her. That didn't mean he and Potter were about to become pals or anything, but at least there might be a mutual respect; something that he hadn't thought was ever possible between them. Potter continued speaking once he gathered his train of thoughts.

"What I'm trying – rather poorly – to say, is that Hermione deserves the best. And if you change your mind, or end up hurting her or being a coward about this, I will hunt you down and make you pay. I'm pretty good at that, you know. Chosen One, and all."

Draco let his lips curl up into a genuine smile of amusement, watching Potter closely and seeing just how serious he was about this. He truly believed that the Gryffindor boy would harm him if he broke Hermione's heart.

"Listen, Po…Harry," he started stepping up closer to the Gryffindor so that they were both standing next to each other and looking out the front doors down to the lawns below, "I don't exactly like you or anything, but you do deserve to know the truth. And…well…the thing is I fell in love with your friend sometime during fifth year…" he said, feeling extremely awkward saying the words so candidly, and it didn't help when Potter's jaw dropped open. His cheeks flushed a bit and he shuffled on his feet as he continued, "I know, it sounds crazy. But I did. So when the three of you were brought to Malfoy manor, regardless of what happened or the personal risk of trying to keep my cover, Hermione was always going to get out of there alive. I would have died for her. Last night I almost did."

Potter stared at him completely dumbfounded for a few moments. His mouth was gaping open and closed like a fish, before he finally snapped it shut and gave a whimsical little smile.

"Wow," the Gryffindor murmured, his smile turning into a wry smirk, "Well I guess that answers a lot of questions."

"Such as?"

"Such as why you seemed so damn pleased after you poisoned Ron in sixth year."

Draco squirmed a bit, before allowing a little smirk of his own to grace his lips again.

"It was an added bonus," he agreed vaguely.

Potter shuffled a bit with a chuckle, running his hands through his messy brown hair and they fell into a comfortable silence. They both stared out at the grounds for what seemed like an eternity, solemnly taking in the serenity of the castle after the storm. After a long pause where he contemplated the battle earlier, Draco suddenly remembered what had been bothering him, and he turned back to Potter with a reluctant look, dreading his own question before he asked it.

"Oh Merlin, I'm a selfish idiot," he muttered to himself quickly, "Potter, tell me…what the bloody hell happened to Snape? The Dark Lord didn't…"

He trailed off nervously and his fears were confirmed when Potter looked intensely guilty for a second.

"Oh _shit…_ "

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. Voldemort killed him in the Shrieking Shack. He was trying to become the master of the bloody elder wand. Snape didn't stand a chance. I didn't realise it at the time, but now…I wish there was more I could have done. So many people hated him in the end but really…he was a hero."

Draco felt the lump in his throat grow uncomfortable and he tried to swallow it. He had firmly put off asking about Snape earlier that morning at the end of the battle, because deep down he had known the truth. A part of him thought if he didn't ask, then it wouldn't be true. But he knew that if Snape had been alive, he would've been fighting right there beside him and Potter. Instead, that snake-faced bastard had murdered him.

 _Fuck._

He wished for one insane moment that the evil wanker would rise from the dead once more just so Potter could obliterate him from existence again.

"Fucking bastard!" he yelled a little too loudly and it echoed unpleasantly across the entrance hall.

Draco dropped down to sit on the front step, lowering his head to rest in his hands tiredly, so exhausted from grief already. Severus Snape was one of the only ones who had believed in him, who had known he was better than his upbringing. He had fostered a love of learning and a sense of morality that Lucius had never bothered with. And even though during their years at Hogwarts their relationship had become strained, he had made a true difference in the end. To think of him killed so barbarically, so coldly before the real battle even began, was just depressing. Poor Snape. His life had sucked right up until the moment he died. Draco wished the older man could have had another chance at life after the war. That he could have become something greater than just a spy for two masters he resented.

He felt a slight pressure on his back between his shoulder blades, and almost groaned with embarrassment as he realised it was Potter patting his back in what he supposed was meant to be a comforting gesture. Instead it just felt awkward.

"I'm sorry," Potter said again, but Draco just shrugged him off.

"I shouldn't act surprised," he drawled, his voice muffled in his hands, "I knew he was dead. I just…he was my godfather. He saved me."

"He saved us all," Potter said quietly.

Draco nodded and sniffed a bit, really wishing that the scrawny Gryffindor git wasn't here to witness his moment of weakness.

"Draco?"

His head perked up a bit at the sound of Hermione's voice, and he turned around to see her walk up to them from through the Entrance Hall. Her eyes were wide with concern; no doubt confused by the little scene they were posed in. Potter had removed his cloak and was crouching to pat his back while he cried on the front steps. It couldn't possibly look more surreal to her.

"Oh my god, Draco!" she whispered worriedly, "What's wrong?"

He ran his hands through his hair and sniffed again.

"Snape's dead," he said quietly, ignoring Potter in favour of staring up at his beloved witch, so beautiful even though she was caked in dirt and dried blood. Hermione nodded sadly, her eyes widening in remembrance, and she hurried forwards to sit next to him, looking wretched.

"Oh Draco…I'm _so_ sorry. With all that's happened, I completely forgot to tell you. I'm a horrible person…"

She was so dismayed, her face falling completely, and her eyes starting to well up with tears. Draco instantly leaned closer to her, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks to wipe away the few drops that fell.

"Shh, don't cry, Hermione," he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers, "There was so much loss last night. You were overwhelmed by it, we all were. I didn't even ask Potter until a moment ago. Don't feel guilty. Please."

She sniffed away her tears and blinked a couple of times as she gazed at him.

"I'm sorry about your godfather. But he wasn't alone when he died. We were there. Harry and me. For the first time in his life he actually seemed happy to see Harry, if you can believe it."

Draco smiled softly, pulling her into a firm hug. He let his hand drift up to stroke his fingers across her wild curls that had become an absolute mess during the fight. He felt her sharp little nails dig into his back, but he didn't mind the mild sting. He liked having his brave lioness there, holding onto him.

"I'm just…gonna go back inside then," Harry muttered awkwardly from off to the side, but neither of them answered him, too wrapped up in giving each other that intimate support that only a lover can provide. Draco heard Potter's soft footsteps tapping on the stone quieter and quieter until he had gone and they were alone.

"You didn't hex each other," Hermione whispered teasingly into his ear after a while, and he smiled.

"I have no desire to be shipped off to Azkaban for cursing the Chosen One."

Hermione giggled, her breaths tickling the skin on his neck.

"You know, when Kingsley got his report off Harry to deliver to the ministry a little while ago, Harry made it perfectly clear that you were not to be arrested. He threatened to humiliate them by openly declaring his contempt for the ministry if they dared try to take you."

Draco leaned back to look at her in surprise. Hermione's smile was wide, and a little smug.

"Really?" he asked dubiously.

"Mmhmm. I heard him."

Draco whistled lowly, raising his brows and staring at her in bemusement.

"Wow. That was pretty decent of him."

"Maybe Harry's not so bad after all," she joked.

Draco smiled, thinking about their bizarrely cordial conversation a second ago, and how much the boy clearly cared for Hermione.

"Maybe not. He's… an annoyingly _good_ person."

Hermione's smile widened at his statement, until she was beaming. Her face was bright with excitement and hope, making her incandescently beautiful to him. It obviously meant a lot to her that he was able to get along with her best friend.

"I love that you're trying," she whispered in a throaty voice, "that you want to keep the peace with my friends. That you stayed and fought for what you believe in. I love that you saved Neville Longbottom. I love that you told Lucius the truth, and how deeply you cared about Tilly. Draco," she paused and he saw her swallow, grabbing his hands and holding them tightly, looking at him earnestly, with open honest eyes, "I've fallen in love with you too."

He felt his heart stutter and almost stop for a moment, before it began to pound painfully fast again. He gazed at her in momentary disbelief, before his lips stretched into a manic smile.

"Really?" he asked, as boyishly excited as a child unwrapping a gift on Christmas day, "You…uh…really?"

Hermione looked a bit flustered, but she bit her lip hard and nodded.

"I'm such an idiot, Draco," she groaned, "I should have told you last night before I left. I kept thinking about how I had made this huge mistake. What if something happened to one of us during the battle and I hadn't told you? But then everything got out of control, and it was too late."

"You're really serious, aren't you?" he asked in total incredulity.

Hermione stared at him a bit crossly.

"Of course I'm serious. You don't believe me?"

Draco laughed a bit manically.

"Of course not! How could I? You're…well…the most amazing witch I've ever known. And I'm-"

"A hero," Hermione interrupted with a sweet little smile that made him want to kiss her hungrily. Unable to repress the urge, he did, grabbing her face and pressing his mouth to hers hard. He tilted her head sideways, sucking on her moist bottom lip like a man dying of thirst. Before he could get too carried away he pulled back to stare into her slightly dazed brown eyes.

"Say it again," he demanded, a bit childishly, but she gave him an indulgent, knowing smile.

"I love you," she repeated in a croaky voice, her eyes flickering down to look at his lips since he had just kissed her breathless.

"Oh Merlin help me, I love you so much," he responded before he sealed their lips again, kissing each other desperately. It felt like weeks had passed since they had both felt this together. He slid his fingers into her hair and coaxed her mouth open to bruise her lips with kisses, wishing he could just forget the destruction around them and whisk her home to their cottage. _Their_ cottage. He'd keep her trapped there, taking her again and again until she couldn't walk properly. The thought made him moan and nibble on her bottom lip voraciously, desperate to coax those soul-bending whimpers from her that set him on fire…

"Uh…excuse me?"

Draco released Hermione quickly, a bit surprised that someone had managed to walk right up to them without them noticing. But then again, they had been rather preoccupied. He caught his breath quickly and turned to squint up at the figure standing in front of them, hidden a bit by the sunlight shining across the lawn. He got a bit of a fright at first, thinking that the woman was his Aunt Bella come back to life or something, but then he realised what that must mean. He shot to his feet, smoothing down his hair and giving the woman a slightly nervous grimace.

"You must be Andromeda," he stammered, looking the woman up and down who reminded him so much of Bellatrix, but in many other ways he saw his mother there too. She was looking exhausted, her eyes sunken with black rings beneath them, and a worried expression on her face. He instantly felt bad for the woman. She, in turn, passed her eyes over him, resting on his pale blond hair.

"And you must be Draco," she murmured tiredly, "You sent me the letter…hello Miss Granger," she added, looking over at Hermione who had stood as well, and was looking a bit embarrassed to be caught snogging heartily out the front of this still smoking battle zone.

"Andromeda," Hermione nodded politely, clutching onto Draco's hand. He finally snapped into action.

"Nymphadora is just inside. She said something about the baby-" he added, looking down and seeing that Andromeda was clearly not carrying an infant.

"This is no place for little Teddy," the woman sighed sadly, "I left him with a friend. Now if you'll excuse me, my daughter needs me."

Her posture and voice were quite haughty, just like his mother, but as she swept past them to go inside, he saw her pause and turn around to face him again.

"Maybe when there's more time…we can have a chat," she suggested softly, watching him to gauge his reaction. Her eyes were much kinder than either his mother or his aunt. She looked like she genuinely wanted to see him again. He swallowed and nodded, feeling surprisingly curious about getting to know some of his other family who had been forbidden to him before. It might help to fill in the aching hole in his heart where his mother had been.

"I'd like that," he said firmly, with a very slight hint of a smile to let her know that he was being genuine, and she looked instantly relieved. Maybe she had been worried that he would be too much like his father. But surely seeing him snogging the princess of Gryffindor had dispelled that notion. Regardless, she gave him one last warm smile before turning and heading inside with what was clearly a heavy heart.

"Draco? Are you alright?"

He realised he must have been staring after the woman for a while, because when he turned back to Hermione, she was looking at him in concern. He smiled reassuringly.

"I'm exhausted," he admitted, leaning in and placing another gentle, almost chaste kiss on her bottom lip, which was still a bit swollen from their earlier passion, "I can't wait to get home and sleep for days."

Hermione smiled, leaning against him tiredly herself. They supported each other with an arm around the other's waist.

"I know, it's hard to be around here after everything. There's so much sadness. I just want to close my eyes and forget it for a while."

He smirked and trailed his hand lazily across her jaw.

"I love y-"

"Merlin's fucking pants, Draco!"

They both groaned and turned to watch Blaise leaning out of the Great Hall, his expression one of intense frustration and his hair a bit messed up.

"I'm sick of these bloody Gryffindors! They're insufferably noble and annoying pains in the arse. Can you get back in here and balance out the room a bit please?"

Draco sighed in resignation. But then a little impulse struck him and he straightened and turned back to Blaise with a thoughtful expression.

"Actually... _no._ "

"What?"

"No. I can't. We're going home."

Hermione looked up at him in surprise, unable to hide the hope in her eyes.

"We are?"

He looked down on her in adoration, pushing a few messy curls off her face so he could meet her stunning brown eyes.

"Yes. I'm sure Harry won't mind," he said quietly, and Hermione's eyes swam with sudden wetness, as if she had been desperate to leave but too noble to say anything. Blaise was right. Bloody Gryffindors. "You've done enough for now, Hermione. You've done more than enough. We can come back after some sleep to keep helping."

"Thank you," she murmured softly, leaning her forehead against his, "Let's go bury Tilly properly."

He felt his eyes prick as well at her gentle words, and even Blaise didn't try to tease them or argue when he saw their sweet little moment together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, just to be certain that this was what she wanted. Hermione lifted her chin to look up at him, and he could see her love for him shining through her gaze. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared down at _his_ witch. She gave him the softest, barest hint of a smile.

"Yes. Take me home, Draco."

….

 **Aw. Yes there's still one chapter to go to wrap up this story. So keep reading until the very end! I appreciate all your lovely reviews; you have made this story very easy to keep writing with such positive encouragement.**


	33. Transformed

**Author's Note: So this is our final chapter! My epilogue is not quite as far in the future as Rowling's because…well, you all know how corny epilogues can be when they're set nineteen years later. So this is a bit sooner.**

 **I want to thank all my faithful reviewers (you know who you are) who have left lovely messages every chapter. You kept me going. Make sure you read my note at the end, otherwise ENJOY!**

 **For the last time… JKR is as sweet as a trip to Honeydukes!**

 **...**

 _ **Epilogue**_

Draco stretched his arms out high above his head, his knuckles brushing the headboard as he stretched out his tired muscles. He felt that pleasant sort of popping along his spine, and groaned in relief. There was still a nice ache radiating from every inch of his body, even though it had been put through the ringer last night. Hermione had decided impulsively that she wanted to celebrate the anniversary of the day he rescued her and brought her to their beloved cottage. She had arranged a special dinner for him, but after that it had gotten wildly out of control, as they both often did. Draco hummed happily as he contemplated the ease with which they had become intimate with each other over the last year. It had been many months now since the first time they made love, almost approaching the anniversary of the Final Battle, and it still felt like the first time. They were insatiable. Once the mourning period and the whole mayhem of the war had died down a bit, it was like they couldn't keep their hands off each other. After the battle, Hermione had moved into the cottage with very little ceremony and they had proceeded to quickly christen every surface in the house at least ten times with their passion. He remembered one particularly fond occasion when he had needed her so desperately he wiped the kitchen plates clear off with a sweep of his hand in the middle of lunch and took her on the table. That had been just one of many memorable experiences. He honestly wondered how he could still function normally, when his brain seemed to turn to mush every time she was around. He thought that would have faded over time, but she still had the uncanny ability of setting him on fire with just a glance.

Draco smirked a bit when he remembered Potter and Weasley showing up out of the blue and knocking loudly on the front door, both red in the face when they realised what they had interrupted. They had been concerned about their friend's hasty decision to live with the big bad former Death Eater, when she didn't return with them after the clean up at Hogwarts. It seemed as though Potter hadn't been quite prepared for the fast pace their relationship took. Potter didn't quite remember that Hermione had lived there in the cottage happily for months while she was recovering, and that it had become her home too. He was only looking out for her interests, though, and Draco was happy to put up with the intrusion as long as they didn't tie her up and drag her away against her will. It took a bit of persuasion on Hermione's part, but she had managed to placate the boy-who-lived-twice. In the end he had just given her a warm hug and made her promise to come visit as frequently as possible and send him a patronus if she was ever in trouble. Weasley on the other hand had much more self-serving interests. He had demanded petulantly that she move back into Grimmauld Place with them, where both boys were staying, and had thrown a right old fit when she refused. It had put a big wound in their friendship, and had plagued Hermione for months as he persisted in ignoring her. She had hated not speaking to Weasley, but had also remained stubborn throughout and determined to be true to her feelings. She _wanted_ to live in her dear little cottage. It was home. And Draco certainly wasn't going to complain. He had designed it for her; he had always wanted her to be here with him. And despite everything, such as their fairly young age and inexperience, it just felt right. It had taken a long time, about three months, for Weasley to finally show up, grovelling of course, missing his friend and apologising for how he had treated her.

They had a lot of visitors to the cottage these days. He still had some protective enchantments up around the place, but not as heavy as before, and friends and family were quite welcome to come through. Draco had been working hard for the last year getting his family's business in order, so he was often gone for long periods of time. Lucius had kept the various Malfoy corporations and investments alive through some underhanded connections. There was a lot of corruption that needed to be rooted out, and Draco attacked the task with a zeal he had never felt before. He was determined to make this a business that he could be proud to helm; one that blended into the new wizarding world order, and with Shacklebolt's more rigorous ministry of magic. But it wasn't easy. There were a lot of ties to be cut, and most of them were rather complex to back out of without receiving a hundred death threats a day.

Hermione had been a saint throughout the whole thing. She had been so understanding, especially when he had been required to travel away for a few days here and there, and throughout it all she had supported his determination to transform the company back to some of its former glory and respect. She herself had been busy researching for ways to reverse intricate memory charms like the one she had used on her parents. She was getting closer and closer to figuring out the answers, with all her meticulous notes arranged in colour coded binders and piled around the cottage. He had been amazed by the progress she had made, and genuinely awed by her skill with charms and obliviates. If it were possible he had fallen in love with her all over again, just watching her piece together everything in a way that proved beyond a doubt that she was brightest witch of her age. She was figuring it all out so efficiently, in her typical pedantic manner, so Draco had already booked them both first class tickets to fly to Australia later in the year. He planned to surprise her with the tickets soon. She deserved a little reward to show that he cared, and that he would stick by her side when the time came to put her hard work into action. Her success with inventing the charms had already attracted a lot of attention from a magical research company in Germany who had written to her to offer her a permanent job. She could even do it from home if she didn't want to move to Berlin. Draco was so proud of her. She hadn't decided what to do yet, but it didn't matter. This feisty little muggleborn was going to take the wizarding world by storm no matter what she chose to pursue.

The amazing witch in question chose that moment to enter the bedroom, making Draco's smile widen into a cheeky grin. She was clearly a bit frazzled, which only made him chuckle. She looked over at him with a bossy little frown. He couldn't help but drop his eyes to her body, still glistening with water droplets from her shower, and wrapped only in a thin white towel.

"Don't even think about it, Draco!"

He tried to blink innocently up at her from where he was sprawled on the bed, the sheet draped down around his waist. But he knew that he couldn't hide the interested leer on his face.

"About what?" he asked in feigned ignorance.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at him.

"You know what," she said with a little pout, even though he saw one corner of her lips twitching upwards, "And we're already late, thanks to you!"

Draco shrugged, flexing his arms as he did and liking the way Hermione's gaze lingered on his bare chest.

"I'm not the one who decided to wear that sexy green skirt to a children's birthday party."

Hermione scoffed.

"What is it with you and that colour?"

Draco just smiled and bit his tongue, sending her a mischievous little wink. She wasn't kidding. He loved it when she wore green, which she did a lot more these days. It had taken them a few weeks to fully realise some of the changes in the cottage when they returned. It turned out that Tilly had done a lot more than they had known at the time. Hermione had a whole wardrobe full of clothes, and he had been quite pleased to discover that a lot of them seemed to be designed in Slytherin colours. The little elf must have worked so hard to put together a beautiful trestle of clothing for the witch; she had a wardrobe fit for a duchess now! And Draco had almost cried when he saw the project that the elf had been working on in her cosy attic bedroom. Tilly had been sewing together a beautiful patchwork quilt with the Malfoy crest on it, a beautiful blanket designed for a tiny baby. It even had some protective house elf charms woven into it, to make sure it was always the right temperature, never needed washing, and was impervious to any hostile spells

Hermione had been touched by the gesture. They weren't ready to have children, and wouldn't be for many years probably – bloody hell, they were still just teenagers! But it was such a sweet thought, and he was sure it would be a very meaningful family treasure to them in the future. After she had found the quilt, Hermione had decided to plant a small garden full of the most stunning pink flowers in a patch of soil out the back where Tilly's body was buried – her favourite colour.

"Draco, are you planning on getting ready soon? We should have been there half an hour ago!"

He drew his eyes back to Hermione's sinful body as she tossed some clothes on and took a quick look at herself in the mirror. He sighed reluctantly, knowing he should get dressed. This was her second attempt at getting ready. The first time she had started to strip off her clothes to change, and he had taken one look at the naked curve of her back and had pounced her. One fast and unbridled romp on the bed later, and she was trying again with much more success. He just couldn't help himself. He loved the little dip in her back where there were two dimples in the skin just above her hip. It made him want her so bad. He hadn't been able to stop himself from throwing her on the bed and devouring her in a heavy fog of lust. She wasn't particularly pleased that she had to take another shower afterwards. But her anger was tempered by a fairly dazed, satisfied smile that she couldn't seem to wipe off her face no matter how hard she tried to scowl at him, so he was feeling pretty smug.

"Alright, my little temptress," he drawled with an exaggerated groan, tossing the sheet off and moving to get changed into the clothes laid out on his dresser. He had let Hermione slowly coax him into wearing more casual clothes lately, since she claimed that he looked sexy, and today's ensemble was a pair of navy blue jeans and a smart grey shirt. He looked like a muggle, he thought with a frown as he studied himself in the mirror. But he loved the casual sneakers she had bought for him; they were actually pretty cool, he thought. And the laces were a bright, Slytherin green.

"Perfect," she murmured, giving him a look up and down, and fiddling with his hair a bit as he watched them both in the mirror, "very… _normal._ "

He smirked at her and cocked his head to one side to consider.

"I'll never be normal, darling," he teased after a pause, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. She tasted like whatever berry glossy concoction she put on them that made her pout look so irresistible.

"Just the way I like you," she whispered back, before turning to start winding her hair into a thick braid, knotting it at the back of her head. She looked gorgeous. Draco smiled at her when he was done, holding his hand out for her to take. She quickly grabbed the wrapped blue and red present from the dressing table and took his hand, and they strolled out towards the apparition point together.

"I still think you were a bit excessive with the gift, Draco."

He shook his head with a smirk.

"What's the point in being a spoilt millionaire if I can't splurge on my family?"

Hermione giggled, bumping his shoulder affectionately with hers. It was a habit he was glad she hadn't lost over the months of living together. He liked how she teased him.

"He won't understand it. He's only just one year old."

"All the more reason to get him started early."

Hermione just shook her head as they both looked down at the gift. It was a little toy broomstick, much like the one from the photograph of Harry as a toddler that Hermione had proudly shown him when they were visiting Grimmauld Place one evening. But of course, Malfoys were notoriously extravagant, so it wasn't just any old infant broom. Not only did it have about a thousand protective wards on it, it was also charmed to grow as its owner did so that he could keep using it for many years, as he got older. Until he wanted a proper one, and Draco would probably buy him that one too.

When the two of them reached the apparition point, Hermione turned to him, running her fingers through his blond hair. It was nowhere near as slick as it used to be, but fell in baby soft strands across his forehead. He thought it made him look a bit younger, less pretentious. And Hermione loved to touch it delicately with her fingers, and he enjoyed that too.

"Don't stir up Ron today, please," she warned, earning a devilish smile from him, "and try not to let George convince you to play too many silly pranks. You're both insufferable."

He just smiled more widely, not even bothering to hide the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Yes, dear."

Hermione just sighed in resignation and then stuck her tongue out at him cheekily. He raised his brows in surprise at the impish gesture, but before he could comment she had taken hold of his arm and he felt the suffocating pull of apparition. His lungs seemed to collapse in on themselves and he took a deep gasping breath as the world stopped spinning with a loud pop.

"Damnit, Granger," he grumbled, blinking to get his eyes to focus properly on their destination. He peered up at the cute little white house, connected to rows of other similar townhouses in a pretty little neighbourhood. There were parks all around, and the air was warm and tangy like salt from an ocean breeze.

"Draco! Hermione! Wothcer!" The voice called excitedly from the door, and they turned to see Tonks beaming down at them from the open front door of the house. Her hair was a sunny yellow today, to match her bright yellow dress, and her ears were pointed upwards like a pixie. Hermione dashed forwards and the two women hugged fiercely, spouting off a hundred things in squealing voices as only women could. Draco followed at a much more dignified pace, and was soon caught in an equally warm embrace by his cousin. He hugged her back tightly, before he drew back and looked down on her with a smile.

"No fires to put out?"

Tonks laughed and gestured for them to come in.

"Not yet. I did burn the cake, but luckily Molly had made a back-up cake. Which is actually much nicer than mine. I dunno why she was so sure I would fail…"

Hermione giggled, as Draco scoffed at his cousin.

"Maybe because you can't even toast bread without setting the drapes alight."

"Oy! That was _one_ time!"

Tonks led them through the house and out to the back garden, and the two of them both gasped simultaneously as they saw the beautiful decorations all around. It had a jungle theme, with big animal statues that were charmed to look lifelike, and, the tent was made out of what seemed to be a small forest.

"Wow," Hermione whispered in awe. A lot of effort had clearly gone into this little garden party.

Tonks leaned over with a conspiratorial smile.

"It was all Bill and Fleur. They basically took charge. And look at how sweet Victoire is in her little giraffe costume."

Draco snorted again, but made sure he fixed his expression to be politely interested as his Aunt Andromeda approached them with a warm smile. He owed a lot to his aunt in the months since the final battle. There was no other way to describe it; she had taken him under her wing. At first he had been a bit hesitant to take up her time. She had recently lost her husband; Ted Tonks, the man whose death had made Hermione upset so long ago now. And she was also trying to support her daughter who had also lost her husband, and who was trying to raise a baby by herself. He hadn't wanted to be another burden for her. But Andromeda had been stubborn and rather persuasive, and she had insisted the two of them meet up for lunch. One Sunday lunch had turned into two, and two had turned into three. And soon they were meeting every week; it became their little routine. In many ways she reminded him of his mother, but there was also a quiet strength she had that his mother had lost when she was a very young woman, thanks to Lucius. She was a fiercely intelligent woman, with strong opinions and a forthright manner. He genuinely liked her. And he respected her. They had both lost family in the war, and it was nice for them to have found each other amidst so much tragedy. He suspected that she enjoyed spending time with him because he was a link to her old family; to the sister she had lost. She had told him a number of times how pleased she was that he had grown up with his own sense of integrity in the face of overwhelming prejudice. Just like she had, he supposed. They had a lot in common.

"Draco," she said, taking his hands in hers and leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek, "You're late!"

"My apologies, Aunt Andromeda," he said in his most overly courteous, gallant tone of voice, "I was…distracted, and got held up."

He saw Hermione shoot him a glare over Andromeda's shoulder, but it didn't exactly hold much weight when she couldn't stop smiling and blushing at the same time.

"Hmmm…yes, well. Try to control yourself please, Draco," his aunt suggested with a knowing smile, before turning to Hermione and giving her a hug.

"So where's the birthday boy?" he asked, looking around in beaming anticipation, clutching the present he had taken off Hermione's hands. Andromeda pointed over to where the Weasley parents were standing.

"Arthur has him right now. Tonks tried to sew him a lion costume yesterday, but I'm afraid my daughter isn't known for her skills with a needle."

Tonks, who had moved over to talk to Fleur Weasley, shot her head up in outrage.

"Ey! I heard that!"

"Sorry sweetheart. But maybe Hermione can try to work her magic on it, so to speak. She's so good at transfiguration charms."

"Oh, actually that's a wicked idea. Please do something, Hermione. He looks like a cactus!"

Hermione giggled and promised solemnly to do her best, and Draco steered them both over to where Arthur and Molly Weasley stood cooing over the little one-year-old. The Weasleys embraced Hermione warmly, and although Molly pursed her lips a bit in disappointment when she saw him, Arthur didn't hesitate before offering one hand for Draco to shake. It was a little awkward because he was holding onto baby Teddy, but somehow they managed.

"Oh dear, he does look like a cactus," Hermione said with a soft laugh, fiddling with the strange spiky cuff around the poor boy's neck. She swished her wand a few times and the costume morphed into an impressive and colourful mane of fur. It was very cute.

"You're wasted on memory charms, Hermione! You should go into the magical children's fancy-dress business," George said with a smile as he joined the little group. Draco gave his friend a big grin and they shook hands. He had come to know George more and more the first few times he had been forced to join Weasley gatherings. When they had struck up a warm acquaintance, the lone twin had actually started to come along to dinners with him and Blaise. George and Blaise were becoming firm friends, not that he was really surprised, since they could both be a bloody pain in the ass. And while the ginger boy was still suffering from the battle, he had good days and bad, and the good were increasing all the time. But he was much less boisterous than he used to be, and would often keep quiet to avoid making jokes that ended up in tears when he realised that the other half of his act was gone. He had found some kindred spirits in Draco and Blaise though, because the two Slytherins hadn't known him as much when he was a twin, so they didn't treat him like one. He was able to come out of his shell again with them, since they never saw him as only half a person, but as someone with his own unique personality.

"Mate, I've been thinking about your idea for that firecracker-"

" _NO, George_ ," Molly interrupted immediately, her best motherly death stare firmly on her face, "No fireworks or crackers or fizzlers or anything like that at this sweet little child's party. Or I will hex your face bright pink."

George smiled a bit tentatively, shuffling his feet.

"Well…I do look delightful in pink-" he began, but one slap to the back of his head from Molly made him go skipping off, threatening to catch up with Draco later. Arthur turned back to Draco after he had placed his present on a small pile of gifts building up higher on a nearby table. There was a tiny grimace on the older man's normally jovial face.

"Draco, you should probably know that Ron's been in a bit of a mood this morning," he said in a kindly voice, speaking in an undertone so he woulnd't be overheard.

Hermione groaned a bit and rolled her eyes, but Draco just nodded in acknowledgement. There was no use getting upset. The Tonks and Weasley families had been so kind in accepting him into their folds, that he could hardly complain about one person who still distrusted him and sneered at him. He could deal with one person, especially Ronald Weasley. The boy was harmless really, but he simply treated Draco with a sense of disgust and suspicion. That might never go away, so he had to just get used to it. It was hardest when the other boys arranged fun little quidditch matches, and Ron now refused to play on his team. He always accused Draco of cheating, even when they were supposed to be on the same side. It made everyone very frustrated. Potter worked quite hard to keep the peace, but as Arthur said, sometimes Ron just had bad moods.

"I'll try to keep my distance," he assured the Weasley patriarch, who smiled kindly at him before turning his attention back to the birthday boy.

Potter and his girlfriend were the last to turn up to the party. Little Teddy's godfather had a big, genuine smile on his face, and a laugh that echoed above the voices of others. Draco realised that Harry had never looked so innocently happy when he was at school, when the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders too many times to count.

Him and Potter were…quite cordial these days. It was just as well, because the scruffy haired Gryffindor was almost constantly stopping by their cottage to spend time with Hermione. The two were still inseparable friends, and they usually spent at least two dinners a week with him and Ginny.

As he saw Harry twirling around his godson in his arms like an aeroplane, Draco couldn't help but give a wistful thought to his own godfather. Severus Snape had been remembered as a hero, but he had lived his life as a villain. Snape had never been this openly demonstrative or playful with Draco when he was a child, but there had been a quiet, meaningful support that he had provided all his life in so many different ways. It was like he had tried to compensate for the poor job Lucius did as a father. Draco's biggest regret was that he couldn't have done something to help his godfather at the end. If he'd known what was happening in the Shrieking Shack…

He sighed. There was nothing he could have done. He needed to be where he was, helping Potter. And Snape had known the risks. But his heart still ached when he thought of the second opportunity at life the dark man might have been given if he'd survived.

Draco felt a warm weight on his shoulder, and two arms wrap around his waist from behind. He breathed deeply and smelt Hermione's sweet skin brushing up against his as she nestled close.

"You okay?" she murmured quietly into his ear.

He sighed and turned to press a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Yeh. Just thinking about Snape."

Hermione smiled sadly.

"He would have hated this party," she teased gently, drawing a laugh out of him.

"That's true," he agreed, turning closer into her and wrapping his arms around her, "I'm just being morose."

"It's alright to miss him," she whispered, "It doesn't make you weak."

Draco nodded, lowering his head to kiss her bottom lip.

"I love you," he said in a breathy voice against her mouth, "Thank you for giving me a family."

Hermione looked around them at all their friends, laughing and playing games with the few little toddlers as they enjoyed the party. He saw her eyes lingering on Tonks who, despite being alone now, was working so hard to be brave for her son.

"Draco, this is _your_ family!"

He shook his head and pressed his forehead into hers.

"No. You brought me here. You saved me."

"You saved _me,_ " she retorted with a giggle.

He just smirked at her and inhaled a deep, calming breath. He took a moment to savour this feeling with her. The gratitude and love almost overwhelmed him. He had been in love with her for so long, but he could never have predicted the happiness that it would bring him one day. It had been completely unexpected. A part of him still felt undeserving, but that part was growing steadily smaller as she made him feel…like he was worth something. And damnit, he was going to hold on as tightly as he could, and never let her go.

….

 **So I am very sad that this is the end of my little story – I have had such a blast writing it for you all and for myself. Thank you for your perseverance with reading this through to its finale!**

 ** _SOOOO… What did you think? I would love all my readers to leave a review and tell me what they thought of this story as a completed work!_**

 **I am actually keen to write another one at some point, and I have some thoughts brewing. Do you have any ideas for Dramione stories you'd like to see? Set during the school year, perhaps? Please let me know.**

 **Farewell for now.**


	34. Author's Note

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! No, sorry this isn't a new chapter. This story is definitely finished. However I just wanted to let you all know that I have a new story well underway now. It's called** ** _Forget Me_** **and it is indeed a Dramione! If you enjoyed Unexpected please check it out, I'm really enjoying writing it and I've just posted Chapter 8, so the suspense is starting to build…**

 **Thanks again for reading and reviewing Unexpected and I really hope to hear from you again! xo**


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